#like someone cared enough to keep his memory alive and teaching family he never got to meet about him

[esterigermaine]

I have so many questions about Astarion's birth family that it isn't even funny.

I wonder what sort of relationship/dynamic they all had before his death, I wonder how they reacted, if they knew he was "alive" as a spawn the entire time and just ignored it because that creature wasn't their son/brother/nephew anymore, how they would react if told he had spent 200 years suffering. Most of all, I wonder if they would accept (or be proud of) the man he became at the end of the game.

[atinyidea]

Heartworm | Choi San

n. a relationship or friendship that you can’t get out of your head, which you thought had faded long ago but is still somehow alive and unfinished, like an abandoned campsite whose smouldering embers still have the power to start a forest fire.

⟶ college!au, best friend!san, brother!seonghwa, friends to lovers!au, kinda very spicy but there’s no actual smut, there’s mentions of underage drinking and sexual encounters, everything is consentual!

⟶ appellation series masterlist

⟶ 5.7k words

600 special prompt for my lovely soul partner @san–shine, its like 50 years late and I know she no longer is active on this blog but I wanted to keep this.

42: “Exactly how drunk was I?”

49: “Good morning, sunshine.”

☞ When you were younger, you knew you were one-hundred per cent in love with your best friend, Choi San. However, because he was also, in fact, your brother’s best friend and you were a sixteen-year-old rebel adamant to never admit your feelings, you had to watch as he got his first girlfriend during a party Seonghwa had thrown for you. Now, years later and in the middle of college, you find yourself in a familiar setting: a party thrown for you by your brother and Choi San looking as breathtaking as he always does.

☞ moodboard

Just to be clear, when you woke up, you hadn’t expected your brother to announce that there was going to be a party held at your house for your twenty-second birthday. Your brother, being the kind and loving brother he was, had yet again used your birthday as an excuse to throw a house party, even though it wasn’t even your birthday until tomorrow. Seonghwa liked to use your birthday, the date falling in the last week of the summer holidays, as a way to gather all your combined friends as some sort of final summer get-together before the school year began again. You weren’t particularly against them, the end of summer parties becoming a little tradition after the fourth year running, and the fact that they were held at your house meant you could just go to bed any time you wanted. [ thank you sound-proofed home as per your mothers request due to your fathers’ noise-making habits from his job as a musician. ] Though it wasn’t like you knew anyone who would be throwing a house party you couldn’t just walk home from.

You did not know how many drinks you had consumed, alcoholic or otherwise, but the setting you found yourself in was giving you very explicit pangs of nostalgia to the first time you and your brother had thrown one of these parties. Your current situation was not unlike the situations you had been in before. You weren’t ashamed to say that you liked to have fun with your relationships: romantic, platonic or the just-once ones. It wasn’t unusual for you to be found in someone’s lap around midnight; the last party happened to be a beautiful girl named Soojin, the party before that was a guy whose name you hadn’t bothered to remember. However, the person’s lap who you sat in usually was not your best friend, Choi San’s. Not the San you spent the better half of your life burying romantic feelings for because he was Seongwha’s friend first. Not the San, your eyes couldn’t help watch whenever he was near. You made a promise to yourself since that one time when you had just turned sixteen, the one time you found yourself on his lap. [ A promise you made to deny your feelings because the very next day, he had gotten a girlfriend who was definitely not you. ]

At seventeen years old, San knew he was still a stupid and hormonal teenage boy. He practically got nose bleeds anytime he remotely saw a girl's lower back or tummy, their exposed thighs or neck: he knew he could be a perverted little shit. Still, having a girl for a best friend meant that he also knew what was respectful and what was just disgusting – thinking back on it, he was grateful for his friendship with you for teaching him from a young age how to treat girls with proper respect. [ Mainly because you would whack his head or punch him in the balls whenever he said something inappropriate or did something stupid. ] But, also at sixteen, San knew that he was also sorta-kinda-probably in love with his best friend’s sister. [ Who was also his best friend… was it possible to have more than one best friend? ]

During the summer of your sixteenth, Seonghwa’s eighteenth and his seventeenth birthdays, San and his family had gone overseas for an extended holiday. His father had received a promotion, and his mother struck lucky in her weekly lottery draw, so he hadn’t been there to witness the gradual changes to your body. It wasn’t like San wasn’t attracted to you before [ not that either of you knew what the fuck attraction was before ] but when you came to the airport to pick him up with your father, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to look at another girl ever again. [ Of course, that was an overdramatic thought since he proceeded to have girlfriends that weren’t you but the thought of you truly never left his mind. ]

The day of your sixteenth birthday party was something he would always remember clearly. He remembered the way you hugged him for a solid five minutes when he got to your house in the early morning, complaining about how your parents would still be away for another few days, and your brother refused to even hug you on your birthday. [ Seonghwa’s excuse was that it was your birthday tomorrow, and that was when you could claim the birthday hug. ] Secretly, he wished you would tell him you hugged him simply because you wanted to have him close. He remembered how Seonghwa had launched into a story from his last house party (one for the seniors that only he was invited to, but the stories were fun nevertheless) as he attempted to make pancakes at your request. You had bounced your way to your favourite countertop space and jumped up to sit there, right in front of the fridge, because it was the only place that was both cool and warm [ “exactly the right temperature” ] in the entire kitchen. He remembered the way his body slotted between your legs, his back to your chest as the two of you shared a vodka-and-coke at ten-in-the-morning. His mind was restlessly deciding if it was okay to lay his hands on your knees or calves, inevitably switching between the two places every five minutes. It hadn’t felt weird but natural as all three of you shared hearty laughs and then partially burnt pancakes.

[ He remembered when he had given you the small-and-terribly-wrapped box that held your present, egging you on to open it a day early. The way your face lit up as you lifted a thin silver chained sunflower charm bracelet into the air would forever be imprinted on his eyes – your eyes sparkling and lips twitching up into a wide grin as you thanked him seven times. The gentle tone of your voice as you asked him to help you put it on because for some reason, you couldn’t put clasped bracelets on for the life of you, was saved like a voice note in his brain. “You remembered,” you had whispered once he was settled back between your legs, “that sunflowers were my favourite, I mean.” The brush of your lips on his cheek lined the walls of his heart as it threatened to shatter through his ribs. ]

As a sixteen-year-old San knew that you probably shouldn’t’ve had as much alcohol as you had that night. However, as a seventeen-year-old San also didn’t care as long as you were having fun. It was not the first time you consumed alcohol, but it was the first time you’d had enough to get drunk from it. It was your sixteenth birthday party after all, and neither your brother nor your best friend had any objections when you grabbed the first vodka-and-coke at ten in the morning while you got ready. So now, at almost eleven at night, you had had more than ten of those drinks, and you could honestly say you weren’t sure if you’d remember anything from this night at all. The hours went by in a blur, and soon three drinks had turned into eight as you dragged San to your room to decide on an outfit for the night. He remembered the way his throat constricted as you strolled out from your bathroom in a neon green crop top and the pair of flare jeans you always wore. Ultimately San thought he would’ve preferred that outfit to the one you settled on – a black denim mini-skirt with a matching jacket on top of a simple t-shirt with a neon rainbow painted across the chest. The sliver of skin showing from the crop top was way less tempting than the muscle of your thighs, mainly since that was your exact plan for the outfit.

“You look good,” he had said, swallowing gulps of air and saliva when you asked, “you’d still look good in a potato sack,” he complimented you as you twirled on the spot and gifted him with a brilliant grin that simply took his breath away.

“We match!” You all but squealed when you took note of the black denim jacket San wore over his t-shirt with a neon rainbow across the chest.

He hadn’t even noticed.

His memory started to get hazy around drink number thirteen. He couldn’t remember how or what events had led to the current situation, [ or which room the two of you were actually in that was both not your bedroom and also not inhabited by literally anyone else ], but he certainly was not complaining. You were so close to him he could smell the faintest scent of your vanilla and cinnamon shampoo and conditioner you had used the day before, the slightest whiff of your jasmine scented perfume [ the one you always wore, the one he bought you your first bottle of ] and the sweetly bitter smell of cherry coke and vodka on your breath. His hands seemed glued to your lower back and hips, palms almost moulded to your skin like he were a sculptor, and you were his latest masterpiece. Your legs either side of his own, wrapping around him possessively, like he was yours and only yours, and he let you, using his hands to pull you closer to him like you were his and only his. Your faces were so close he could feel each hot exhale of breath hitting his lips, and when they stopped as you shivered and whined, he couldn’t help the way his lips tilted upwards into a smirk. The way you attempted to wire your mouth shut not to make a sound wasn’t effective, seeing as he heard all three of your whines, each one getting more prolonged and higher in pitch as the two of you continued your ministrations. His hips wanted to jut up into you. Still, he forced his movements to be as slow and smooth as possible, wanting to feel every way you would come undone above him, but when his gaze flickered across your face. He spotted the small trickle of blood falling from your lips; it was like everything that had just happened had disappeared.

From your recollection, you only remembered specific parts of that night. Your legs had been situated on either side of his thighs, your arms wrapped around his neck as his palms slowly pushed up the small of your back to pull your body closer to his. Your faces were so close you could physically see the connection between the two of you, yet neither of you pushed forward enough to make that connection real and tangible. [ You wanted to, God, you wanted to kiss him right then more than anything. Why didn’t you kiss him then? ] San’s hands felt hot against your skin, his fingertips slowly moving to draw a masterpiece on your back. You shivered slightly as a slight breeze floated around the sliver of exposed skin where your shirt had ridden up. Your eyes were drawn to San’s lips as they twitched up into a slight smirk; his own eyes flickered to watch you watch him. Neither of you had said a word to each other for almost half an hour, drunkenly pushing at the limits between your friendship with nothing but burning touches and delicate twists of hips.

You subconsciously sucked your bottom lip into the confines of your teeth, but you willingly bit down harshly to stop a sly whine from escaping your lips as San had the cocky idea to roll his pelvis into yours as he held you in place with his hands on your hips. Apparently, you had bitten down way too hard because the next thing you knew was that San’s playful smirk had evaporated into a concerned frown. He lifted a hand from your hip – the sudden rush of cold where his hand previously was leaving you feeling a sense of loss – to your lip, his thumb tugging your lip back out.

“You’re bleeding,” he mumbled, thumb coming away with a smear of blood moulding into his fingerprint. The taste of blood in your mouth was unexpected and had sent you reeling. You almost flew off of his lap and practically ran to your bedroom’s bathroom to inspect the damage. There was a tear in the side of your bottom lip. [ The side of your lip you always bit out of habit, so the skin was thinner there than the rest of your lip. ] Against your better judgment – the rational part of your brain was too drunk at that moment – you settled your tongue against the fresh cut. Finching away from yourself at the unexpected [ which really should’ve been expected ] pain, you decided that there was nothing you could do to help soothe it. After twenty minutes, that felt like two, of staring at yourself in the mirror, you finally shrugged and made your way back into the heart of the party.

As an almost sixteen-year-old, you knew you were just coming into figuring out your body and the emotions of more physical relationships as you grew into it. You knew you had grown up a little (a lot) over the summer, your chest filling out from a b-cup to a c-cup, your lanky figure could no longer be considered lanky as your limbs gained muscle, fat and tone, creating a new full and curvy figure. Your mother had been ecstatic when you came to her asking how to style clothes to fit your ‘new’ figure as it meant the two of you could go shopping [ one of her favourite activities ], and you could find your style that both suited your body and personality. You did have to admit that your style didn’t change much; you still loved a sturdy flannel shirt [ always oversized though, now you tended to wear it open with a form-fitting crop top or spaghetti-strap top underneath to show off your chest and waist ] and you still loved your favourite pair of flare jeans enough to wear them almost every other day, [ the one with the painted sunflower over the back pocket. ] You also loved pleated mini skirts and knee-high socks or a simple loose-form-fitting dress with lycra cycle shorts underneath. You didn’t like the emotional side of your summer changes, though and, while you were new to the whole attraction thing, the one person you definitely didn’t feel anything remotely romantic for was your best friend. [ Well, maybe you did, but he was Seonghwa’s friend first, and that was a no-go… and perhaps you wanted to reject the way your heart turned into butterflies when you saw him at the airport… and maybe you just weren’t ready to put those feelings into words, so you denied them instead. ]

Your best friend whose lap you were just sat on, grinding your hips into his with your noses touching. Your best friend who was now kissing another girl [a beautiful girl who was named Hyemi, she was in Seonghwa’s class and also happened to live across the road… she was always nice to you and you couldn’t find it in you to dislike her even as your stomach knotted and twisted into something green with envy ] in the middle of the kitchen. You wouldn’t remember how long you stood there, watching the two of them kiss like a complete and utter creep, and you wouldn’t remember the look San gave you as he noticed the sway of your hair as you retreated out of the kitchen with a frown on your brow.

You did not fancy your best friend, and you definitely did not care that he was kissing Hyemi in front of the fridge. [ The fridge he stood between your legs in front of literal hours ago. ] Lastly, you definitely did not feel like crying as your mind reminded you about two different memories of earlier that day – one of you sat on the counter opposite that exact fridge with San leaning back into you as he gave you the sunflower charm bracelet that wrapped around your wrist, watching Seonghwa attempt to make you birthday pancakes. The second the memory of his hands burning up your skin, the way his lips tilted into a smirk when you shivered under his hold and the way you inflicted pain to yourself in an attempt not to whine with pleasure at the way he moved his hips.

It was too raw, and now you just wanted to forget.

San’s brain refused to calculate time because one minute his hand was reaching for your bloodied lip and the next you were gone, and San was back in the kitchen getting you a glass of water [ and then he was kissing another girl in front of the fridge he rested between your legs literal hours ago. ] San wouldn’t remember what their conversation had been, only that this girl, Hyemi, was older than him and had just asked him out. He wouldn’t remember the exact way her grin turned a little too malicious to be sincere. He would, however, remember the way your hair flew over your shoulder as you spun away from the scene involving him; he would remember the way his eyes followed your figure all the way into the embrace of your brother as you shallowly smiled and stole his drink [ and he would remember the way his chest seemed to ache at that simple action. ]

Hyemi became his girlfriend at that same party; you didn’t even know they knew each other. He didn’t even know why he said yes.

And here you were, on the penultimate night before your twenty-second birthday, in the lap of your best friend. His relationship with Hyemi had lasted six months, and he had gotten six more significant others in the seven-year gap from then til now but, right then, he was single, and you were in his lap. You had flopped down over the side of a two-seater couch; eyes screwed shut with laughter, so you didn’t realise who was sat on said couch – or that anyone was – until your head made contact with their thigh. [ Their thigh was very comfy to lay on, which was the first thing your brain commented on. ] When you looked up and met eyes with San, a small [ tiny really, in no way visible to the person who knew you best and where to look for a blush – finding it immediately ] blush was growing warmly over your cheeks.

“Hey there,” He grinned, setting down his plastic cup, [ more like throwing it over his shoulder, not caring that it hit someone since it was mostly empty anyway ] and poking your nose gently just to watch the way it would scrunch up. His fingers were moving from your nose to his ear to make sure the roll-up cigarette that was balanced there hadn’t fallen.

“Hi,” you giggled, your legs curling up to your chest, making you look like a contorted cat as your feet still dangled slightly over the arm of the chair. After a few seconds, your fingers started twitching and settled on playing with the fabric of his shirt. It was the same rainbow one he wore to your sixteenth party, matching the one you were wearing too. The both of you had grown out of them, San settling on cutting it into a crop top and you doing the same, [ since you were the one who had actually cut San’s shirt and decided to continue and do yours, so you matched again. ] His shirt gave little to cover, showing off his abdominals and tummy [ and the slight happy trail peeking out from the waistband of his jeans ] proudly and only just covering his pectorals. Your own shirt was cut higher, stopping just above the curve of your breasts. Still, your own torso was covered in a neon green fishnet bodysuit [ not that it left anything to the imagination, your torso was still on show ] that was tucked into your signature flare pants which now rode a little low on your hips and the sunflower on the back was more than a little faded.

“What are you doing?” He asked with an amused grin, [ complemented with the subtle raise of a singular eyebrow… Gods, why was he so attractive? ] one hands fingers starting to twist in the loose strands of your short hairstyle. It was nice. [ The touch of his hands against your hair was excellent, the slight tug of the strands against your skull felt really nice. ]

“Taking a break. Siyeon, Minji and Yunho broke out the karaoke machine, and they're playing the song shots game.” You replied as if it explained everything. [ It actually kind of did, San recalled you once telling him that the chaotic energy of that particular trio and the song shots game gave you awful headaches. And you hated having headaches when you were drinking because it made you nauseous. And when you were nauseous and drunk, you tended to go have a smoke, which you were trying extremely hard to stop doing for the sake of your father, who also used to smoke and now had lung problems. So, San understood your meaning. ] “What about you?”

San had to take a minute to think. Just what was he doing? Why was he so out of it today? In his heart, San knew the answer, but he hadn’t unlocked that treasure chest just yet. [ He was tired of watching you be semi-intimate with people that weren’t him… Which he refused to admit. Because both of you were pinning assholes in denial. ] Finally, even though it had only been a minute, he replied with a simple “I’m just… sitting.”

“Oh?” You asked, now it was your turn to raise the amused eyebrow, “just sitting?”

“Sitting... and thinking.”

“About what?”

“You.” The word was out faster than San’s brain had time to process what he’d said. However, now he had said it, he wasn’t going to deny it. Was it the small amount of alcohol in his system? [ It was the way your eyes widened a little as you looked up at him from your place in his lap, fingers twisting in his shirt and lips falling open ever so slightly. ]

“Me?” Your pitch ascended as the volume of your voice diminished.

“Yeah, you!” He grinned, tone equally as quiet but still showing enthusiasm, moving his free hand to boop your nose.

“What about me?”

San’s fingers in your hair froze at your question, his mind whirring with any kind of answer that wouldn’t cross the line into confession territory wherein he would lose your friendship indefinitely, but after one look at the serious longing look in your eye, he decided he would ‘man up’ [ the phrase making him cringe as soon as he thought it… the connotation of the word being so outdated and, for someone who grew up with a very stubborn girl in his life, San wondered why society hadn’t come up with a suitable alternative to the phrase ] and just tell you.

So he did.

“Do you remember what happened between us at your sixteenth party?” He asked, seemingly changing the conversation topic. Confused but going with it, a slight blush warming your cheeks, you nodded, and he took that as permission to continue, “I can’t stop thinking about it.” His voice was nothing louder than a whisper, you should’ve had to strain your ears to hear him, but at that moment, it was like all other sounds and distractions faded from the scene. Your breath hitched as you simply stared up into his eyes, his pupils dilated, almost taking over the beautiful swirling colour of his irises [ making his eyes look darker than usual, more intense than expected, and for a second, you swore your heart stopped ].

“What about it?” Your question was innocent enough, but the way you said it gave way to other ideas. Your voice was soft and breathy, like you weren’t getting enough oxygen, and like San, the words weren’t said above a whisper. Afterwards, you bit down softly on your bottom lip [ unintentional on your part, it was just a habit of yours, to be honest ], minutely sucking it in, and San’s focus shifted to watch your lips specifically.

“I’m thinking about how much I’d like to do it again.”

“You want to kiss me?”

“If you’d let me.”

“Please kiss me.” You whispered, more a statement rather than a question or demand. And so he did, leaning forward to reach you, head still in his lap, [ it felt like a slow-motion scene in a movie, but it couldn’t have been longer than two seconds before his lips were flush against yours ]. It was not the first time the two of you had kissed, but it was the first time you had kissed since becoming official adults — it felt different.

It felt good.

His lips were soft, and his kiss was gentle, at least it was at first. As the seconds ticked on, the kiss grew more intense, the soft brush of his lips pressed harder into you, his hands running over your body to pull you up to him. Your arms threaded around his neck, stretching out your torso [ if you were honest, it hurt a little… not that you were lucid enough to be aware of it ] and arching your back. He bit down on your bottom lip, tugging at it a little when your fingers twisted through the hair at his neck, pulling him to you with a new sense of desperation.

And then the two of you fell off the couch. You slid off his lap and landed on your back [ though it was more like you were on your side than your back ] while San rolled over on top of you. Both of you froze in your positions, eyes wide, [ pupils dilated but that was most likely due to the desire flowing through you ] lips parted as you just stared at one another for a second. San was the first to crack the silence, lips pulling into a grin and eyes crinkling with joy as his laugh sounded out around you. He flipped off from on top of you, landing next to you on the floor but his smile never dimmed and his laugh hadn’t faded. You rolled slightly so you were actually on your side as you continued to look at him. When he looked back at you your heart skipped a beat, his smile was so pretty and it made his dimple so deep but it wasn’t long before his laughter simmered and his expression faded as he looked back at you.

Biting your lip once again you made an executive decision [ the only decision you could think off, since all thoughts were now preoccupied with San at the moment ] to lift yourself to hover over him this time. You swallowed and let out a breath as your eyes met, searching for any sign that you should stop. Your shaking breath cut out into a soft gasp as San’s hands caressed over the small of your back to pull you down so that your chests touched. Your right hand lifted up to take hold of the cigarette tucked behind his ear, [ a small giggle leaving your lips at the thought that it was still there even after all that ] and twisted it between your fingers a little. Was it a nervous habit or just a neat trick, you couldn’t distinguish at the moment. San’s own hand came to hold yours, two sets of fingers now playing with the home-made roll-up gently. Soon enough San took it from your shallow grip and flicked it across the room, using the same hand to cup your jaw to cirect your gaze back to him.

Meeting his eyes made you want to shy away from his gaze but you let him keep you there. He looked at you with such a strong emotion you though you’d possibly be able to taste it from his lips. “I have to tell you something…” You whispered, close enough to not have to raise your voice.

“What is it?” He whispered back, the fingers on your back drawing small circles as the hand at you jaw left to curl a strand of hair around his fingers in the opposite direction. [ how he did that subconsciously and not mess it up would’ve made your head spin in wonder ].

“I love you.” You began, still whispering. “I have for a long time, though in the beginning I tried rather hard to deny it. Mainly because you had a significant other and I didn’t want to ruin that for you. And then, in a rather dick move, I got a significant other in the hopes of stopping it but that didn’t work so I stopped getting into romantic relationships altogether and now-”

He cut you off, pulling you into him to kiss the words from your lips [ which you appreciated because your inner thoughts were beginning to panic because your mouth wouldn’t stop talking ]. When you separated his smile was back, albeit not as wide as before. His eyes were as soft as his smile as he kissed you once more, resting your foreheads together. “I love you too,” he said against your lips. At his words you surged forward, pressing into him with fierce emotion as your kissed him.

You had wanted to hear those words from his lips for so long. You had wanted him for so long. And here he was, right in your reach, his hands on your body and yours tugging gently at his hair. Before all the breath in your lungs had finished and you lost your conscious nerve to a blur of desire those word had repeated at least thrice as you made your way to the comfort of your bed and the warmth of his body.

The next day when you woke up, you woke up earlier than usual and feeling unusually chipper as you took a hot shower. The subtly sweet scent of pancakes met you as you made your way through the house and into the kitchen.

“Good morning, Sunshine, you’re up early,” your brother grinned over his shoulder, both hands currently busy holding a pan and spatula. “I made pancakes.”

“Yes, I can see that.” You returned his grin with one of your own, a teasing smile lifting to your lips as you took a seat. Your head was clear of any headaches or lingering pain from a hangover since you were better with your alcohol intake as a twenty-two-year-old, and your reckless youth had lined your stomach with a fair amount of tolerance.

“Exactly how drunk was I last night? I don’t remember anyone leaving.”

“Oh boy,” Seonghwa sniggered, a sly grin taking over his features, “the party was two days ago, you slept all day yesterday. Really freaked San out.”

“What?!” You exclaimed, a piece of pancake falling from your fingers back onto your plate, bouncing off and onto the side sadly. [ It went ignored as you stared down your brother. ]

“Yeah. And he’s been ramble-muttering about you for a solid ten hours now. He’s really not subtle at all.” Seonghwa grinned. “So now that you two have slept together, are you two actually together?”

If you had liquid in your mouth, you would have spat it out. “He told you?!” You exclaimed, heart racing at the thought of your best friend and your brother discussing your sex-life.

“No.” Seonghwa denied immediately, face scrunching up in disgust at the mere thought, “I definitely don’t need to know details about that. It’s just San isn’t subtle at all when he’s mutter-rambling. He was oblivious to the fact he was thinking out loud about how to move forward after your… time together… while I literally sat next to him.” Seonghwa then grinned at you, again, the stretch of his lips becoming a little too mischievous for your liking. “Pretty sure he passed out on the couch half an hour ago.” He hinted, motioning over to the living room with his head as his eyebrows wiggled up and down suggestively.

A puff of air exhaled through your nose as a small smile climbed over your lips. You opened your mouth to talk, but he cut you off with a gentle pat on the head, “I’m happy for you two,” was all he said but it was enough. [ Your heart soared at the approval of your brother. It was not that you nor San needed Seonghwa’s approval, but it was nice to know he wouldn’t oppose it. ] Then you made your way to the couch San was asleep on.

You sat next to him, in the space unoccupied by his body. His brow was furrowed, which you frowned at. You lifted a hand and gently pressed on the juncture between his eyebrows, smoothing them out. His face instantly relaxed under your touch [ a part of your mind daydreamed that it was because he knew it was you ] and a small smith lifted upon your lips. Your hand moved down to cup his cheek and then his jaw before you raised it to gently wipe away the hair that had fallen in his face. You bit down on your lip, confused on whether to wake him up or not but life had chosen for you as one by one San’s eyes opened and slowly focused on you.

His eyes widened, and in a flurry of limbs suddenly he was laying on his back on the floor while you had balanced yourself with your knees over his waist. After a second of shocked silence [ as the two of you came to terms with what the fuck just happened ] a grin spread across his lips, eyes crinkling in delight, as his hands came to grip your hips gently.

A silent confirmation washed over the two of you as your lips spread to mirror his grin. The two of you would be alright as the next part of your relationship bloomed, the embers of your crushes were now burning bright.

[lovee-infected]

I love your characters analyses and I agree a lot with them!My favorite is Kalim and while he's an angel, the way most people go "Dumb innocent baby who is naive to the way of the the world uwu" kinda irks me haha. Yes, he's an airhead most of the time but he's much more perceptive than he looks (he knew about Jamil nature all along) and can use his head and put in hard work when he thinks it matters, aka helping and making other people happy (his dorm uniform and scary outfit story) (part 1)

PREACH ANON, PREACH!!! The truth has been spoken 👏👏👏 That was amazing and you almost said anything that I meant to say! Characters and even real people who have the same personality as Kalim are often mischaracterized/misunderstood, mostly because people don't know that kindness isn't equal to stupidity. Almost anything that was needed to be said is already here so I'd just go through some of the details to complete it:

(1) Kindness ≠ Stupidity

Honestly...this isn't just about twst, it's about real life. These days many who are just sweet, generous and caring toward others even as they know that they're being abused because of their kindness, are called naïve and stupid. Look, many times they do realize that not everyone around them are worthy of their kindness, but they'd continue to treat them nicely, because it's in they're nature to be kind nonetheless, and this purity and genuine kindness is the worthiest thing one can ever ask for.

After chapter 4, Kalim did understand that Jamil had never been the person he was thought he was, he didn't even consider Kalim his friend. Jamil is still rejecting him but Kalim doesn't care, he even thanked Jamil after the fairy gala event for dancing with him, because it reminded him of the times when they played as children. Someone like Kalim would never forget anyone's kindness towards him, no matter what happens or how things change through the time. If you think about it, we all need someone like Kalim in our life.

Accept it, no matter who we are or how different our taste in people might be, we'd still appreciate an ally like Kalim. Someone who'd care for you and your problems no matter what it is, even as he can't help he'd try his best to at least make you feel better. He accepts criticism and won't fight you even if you call him useless and dumb (Just like when Jamil blamed him in the end of chapter 4), yet he'd still try to befriend you and do his best to support you through obstacles. This will to help people whom he cares for regardless of what they think of him or how much it may trouble him is an absolute treasure, just how many people can be like Kalim?

(2) Kalim shouldn't be compared to Jamil all the time!

A really common way of mischaracterizing Kalim is by comparing him to Jamil all the time: "Jamil is quiet, Kalim is talkative" "Jamil is cold, Kalim is warm and friendly" "Jamil is talented, Kalim is not" "Jamil is thoughtful and wise, Kalim is careless and stupid"...

I agree that Kalim and Jamil are different in some ways, but it isn't okay if we're going to compare him to Kalim whenever we're talking about him! Do we mention Jade or Floyd whenever we're talking about Azul? Do we compare Vil to Rook everytime we're talking about him? See, Kalim and Jamil are two separate characters. No matter how different or close they are, it isn't okay to consider them as nothing more than opposites! Both Kalim and Jamil have independent personalities amd we we don't have to mention Jamil whenever we want to talk about Kalim! His existence isn't bound to Jamil's and he's got a lot we can talk about other than his relationship/differences with Jamil.

(3) His generosity tells us a lot

You may wonder, why is he so generous anyway? Giving up on golden peacocks and diamond stones for friends and even strangers without caring about the financial loss isn't such an easy thing to do. Well let's imagine being on Kalim's shoes for a second:

You come from an unbelievably rich family, and ever since you can remember everyone around you has been treating you like a prince because of your father's status and money. Everyone around you is supposed to respect and treat you like a royaland you can buy anything you can ever wish for, you've got no financial boundaries. But on the other hand, you know that almost everything you've got around you is because of money: fame, wealth and many of your friends.

And if you one day lose all the money you'd once got, what is going to happen to you? What should you rely on? Who will ever even care if you're alive or not if the money that held all of your power and clout is gone? Also, even as he's rich, there are still things that he couldn't ever buy with money. He did say that sometimes he just feels so alone several times, then quickly changed the topic into something interesting and bright. Maybe he does want people to know that he as well sometimes goes through the pain and loneliness, but doesn't want it to seem to dramatic therefore he'd just quickly mention it to let it off his chest, then starts to talk about something else.

That's much and less of the reason behind Kalim's personality, he wants to use his money and attitude to gain what he can't buy with money: Friends. That's right, many of his friends might already be around him just for money, right? But it doesn't matter, he's got enough of money to keep them all satisfied. And if satisfying them is all it takes to keep his friends around him, he's all fine with it. He doesn't mind hoe expensive it might be, as long as he'll get to have nice friends he cares for around him he's alright.

THis generosity with money has found his way to his personality and attitude as well. His nature gravitates him into trying his best to help people out with all he's got. Kalim on his own is one that can get to have hid problems solved easily, there's always someone there to do it for him so he never needs to worry about anything. Perhaps he wants others around him to feel the same? If he had someone to take care of him whenever he needed to, then everyone else as well deserve to be helped out through difficulties just like Kalim was.

(4) We should all try and see through him!

Lets take a look at Kalim's background: Growing up with legit LOTS of siblings, he surely didn't get the attention and family love he deserved to have. Have you ever considered why Jamil was always so important to him while he could've been this close to any of his brothers? Well, that might be because none of his family members wasn't ever even close to being that close to him. Jamil isn't his brother, but Kalim does consider him his brother and best friend, which is somehow showing that even his own family haven't done as much as Jamil has done for him. He could've been poisoned or assassinated at any second, how does it feel growing up in an environment where you know many people already want you dead? Also, have you considered just how insecure and skeptical he coul've became because of having such a fearful past? At this point, someone wit his background might not even dare talk to any of other students let alone making friends with them! Almost any of us could've had trust issues if we'd grown up in the same environment as him!

Come to think of it, you'll see that Kalim is also pretty similar to the well-known hero Naruto! Naruto used to be looked down on because of his lack of ability yet he never gave up, he had a stunning will to turn his enemies into friends, he was considering and never gave up on Sasuke no matter how many times he hurt and turned his back on Naruto, and he never gave up on his goal no matter how many times he lost.

Kalim as well still has a lot to learn to improve and become a stronger magician, and he has strated to work his best and try to improve! It might not happen as fast as we may expect, but someday, maybe he as well would be strong enough for Jamil to be considered his rival and friend.

Another interesting fact to point out is their sense of humor, both Narto and Kalim can be careless at the time and sometimes mess up, and they also have a thing for sometimes laughing at their friends' mistakes (Not in an offensive way) all though they're the one to mess up most of the time. Like the times Kalim laughed at how bad Ace and Deuce's performance was, then decided to teach them how to dance with the help of Jamil.

Just would've been improved much faster if his goal was to be a great magician, but the main difference between Kalim and Naruto are thirs goals. Becoming a great ninja was Naruto's biggest goal, while Kalim's greatest goal is to be a good and supportive friend for everyone around him. Keep something in mind about Scarabia: It's true that Jamil, the vice dorm leader is in charge of most of the tasks and managements; but Kalim's presence is just as necessary for the students! Students need someone understand them, listen to their messenge and care to solve their problems like a friend! With Kalim's sympathy and Jamil's management, Scarabia students would have the chance to improve their best for the sake of their dorm and their very own future. (Though there needs to be some changes, Kalim should be a little more serious in general and Jamil needs to be more considering, but if Kalim and Jamil learn to work as a team Scarabia would stand higher than many of other dorms!)

For real, this is a school of villains and Kalim is much of a great exception to be in this school. He's legit the nicest character in the game and even MC had plenty of great memories with him back in the Chapter 4. This precious boy doesn't deserve to be called stupid or naïve while all he's been doing so far was to bring everyone including us the players a wonderful time and sweet memories...we need to understand him much better💔

[hargrove-mayfields]

more religious Billy pls

trigger warnings for homophobia, child abuse and religious trauma.

From family, to friends, to neighbors, everyone around Billy always said, people like Billy were never supposed to get their happy endings. You sin, you repent, you get to live it up in paradise. But if you don’t repent, you go to hell. It was simple the way they taught it.

And that’s exactly the problem. Billy never knew exactly how he was supposed to earn forgiveness when his sin was just being himself, simply existing, but he tried, for years he did.

He went to every Sunday service and prayed each night like a good Christian boy was supposed to. He did everything he could to make up for being the way he was, from asking out all the pretty good girls at school to participating in the anti-homosexual pushback at the town hall even if he did go home and cry so hard he threw up after that, but those things were all just a performance, cowardly, futile attempts at pleasing the big man in the sky (and at home) that were getting him nowhere near any closer to the pearly gates.

Eventually he breaks. He starts drinking and smoking and screwing around with as many men as will take him out for the night. He grows his hair out long and pierces his ear, gets a tattoo and wears makeup he stole from the church store to sneak it to a gay bar. But still in the end, he just feels worse.

In the moment it’s like a high, like he’s finally getting to see even just a glimpse of who he, who Billy Hargrove really is and not just he was told he had to be, but Neil makes sure to remind him how wrong he is. He cuts his hair with a knife and beats him bruised and bloody, he makes the family go to church on Wednesdays instead of just Sunday, he puts the Bible on his night stand every night and he prays and prays and prays the gay out of that boy, most nights making Billy do it too through his tears.

And Billy tried, desperately he did to believe that all they said and did to him was wrong, that he could be who he wanted without all these rules just to please some unseen dictator that may or may not even be real, but the things he had been taught were so deeply ingrained into his mind. He knew he wasn’t bound for anything better, and he blamed himself for that.

On the floor of the mall, he doesn’t mean to think about it, what will happen after the fact.

He knows he should be thinking about how Max’s life is going to be once he’s not there to protect her, how everyone’s lives will be plagued with all of the destruction he caused, the grief that would come from the deaths of the people he killed. The irony of the Saint-Christopher pendant around his neck when he’d attempted to carry a child to her death instead of to safety.

As much as he’d like to see a familiar face, between everything he’d done, what he put Max and her friends through, all that had happened this past week, he knows he doesn’t have a place in paradise. Not that any of that even matters. He’d had a special spot in hell reserved just for him since he told his momma he had a crush on a curly headed boy named PJ in the second grade and the poor woman almost fainted.

Billy is terrified to be facing it now, but all his life he’d known this was coming, and he thinks he deserves it all the same.

Except, the next time he opens his eyes, he doesn’t see that he’s surrounded by hellfire and tortured souls, instead he’s staring up at a white tiled ceiling, the sound of the steady-unsteady beeping and whirring of machinery filling his head.

He tries to speak, but he doesn’t think anything comes out. A panicky little redhead leans over him in the bed to press one of the buttons. He looks at her face and he concentrates hard, and thinks he knows her, but he doesn’t know her.

A nurse comes at his sister's signal, and they first make sure he’s fully responsive, which is somewhat hard when he can’t speak, and then they inform him he’s been in an induced coma for months. They tell him that anything he saw on the other side wasn’t real, and he was alive that whole time. It doesn’t do much at all to comfort him though. How can it, when he doesn’t even know who he is?

He learns that his name is William, Billy according to the snappy girl who he knows is his little sister now, but whose name he can never seem to remember. His name feels strange in his throat when he repeats it back like a question, “Billy..?” That doesn’t feel like who he is, not anymore at least.

They have to teach him literally everything all over again. All he knew how to do when he woke up was facial expressions and vague, but very painful as he learned, gestures with his hands. Anything else was fair game.

It takes a whole year in the hospital, things going so slowly because of the pain, but even more so because of the setbacks he faces.

Two days after he woke up, when he still couldn’t speak, Neil had showed up. It wasn’t for a visit or even to see his son was going now that he’s finally awake. Neil is there to first ask him what he saw when he died, and when Billy just stares blankly, his vocabulary still too small to articulate anything, to accuse him of being the devil and deliberately mocking Him by coming back.

Needless to say, Neil isn’t allowed in for many more visits.

But it still resets those two days of progress they’d made, and it was like he’d just woken up that same day. This would keep happening every time anything distressing happened around Billy, and they had to find the perfect balance between having too many nurses and visitors in the room at once that he’d get overwhelmed and distracted, or not enough and get lonely and regress.

But once they’re out of the woods with that, things go mostly smoothly. Eating and drinking and walking, he’s gets that all down pat pretty easily, but his memories just aren’t coming back to him. He remembers a few insignificant childhood memories, but it’s mostly the bad things, things like his mother leaving or his father kicking him out for a week when he was fifteen, and so on. He still has no idea what happened to him though, and Max and her mom and the nurses are all telling him these stories, trying to persuade him into remembering, but something is just not clicking.

That is, at least, until he’s allowed to visit with Steve again.

Doctors worried showing him someone who had so many bad memories associated with him might be confusing to Billy, so they held off on allowing visitation from Steve, or anyone else who wasn’t immediate family, but he was at the hospital a few times dropping Max off when Susan was working, and he wasn’t allowed to see Billy then either.

They planned on keeping it that way until they could either be sure Billy’s identity was more secure, or if they were really desperate to get Billy's gears turning, and unfortunately the latter came first, so seven whole months after Billy woke up, Steve is allowed in his room.

The thought process was that the boys were on the basketball team together, at least until Neil pulled Billy as a punishment just before the season ended, and even if all he remembers is beating Steve up, he’s still a familiar face, and it might help, so once when Steve’s about to turn around and walk out like he always does, Max comes back out, wide eyed and flustered looking, and tells him he’s allowed to come visit with her brother.

Nobody can understand why Steve is so teary eyed, or why he says Billy's name with so much desperation, but his reaction quickly gets ignored when Billy responds with a simple, “Stevie.”

It shocks everyone, Steve was the first person who Billy remembered without months of work, sometimes he still called Max by her mother’s name if he was having a hard day, but with Steve it was like there was nothing even wrong. Like it had only been a couple of days since he’d seen him.

Before, if they asked Billy anything about high school, he couldn’t tell them much other than the bad things. But with Steve, those memories that had once been impossible to touch, the blurry images of a past he wasn’t even sure belonged to him, were unlocked, and with time Billy returns to himself. Remembers everything.

His overall progress goes much quicker after that, to the point where they’re planning on letting him out as soon as his medications are all in order, and still nobody can figure out what is so special about this boy.

That is, until a nurse walks in on them, holding hands and sitting on the bed, foreheads pressed together like they’d just been kissing. She goes a little pale in the face, but she says she’s not going to tell. That doesn’t stop half the ward from knowing in less than a week.

Nurses refuse to care for him. Susan starts standing by the door in case anyone comes in. They are told their love was sinful, but it was exactly that that had saved Billy.

Without Steve and what they had, Billy still would have no idea who he was. This wasn’t something the hospital would ever actually admit to Max or his parents, but after so long, they were sure he was never going to have his sense of self back. Because while physically he was recovering, until he had that extra push, he just wasn’t himself.

That was more of a blessing than any holy figurehead could offer. When he finally, after a year and a half in the hospital, got to come home, into Steve’s care because Susan refused to take her stepson back to Neil, his space with Steve offers Billy more comfort and safety than any isolated house of God or reformation camp ever could.

And most of all, Billy isn’t afraid to be himself anymore.

[yannasunflower]

dust to dust | chapter two

chapter one | chapter two

ao3

You don't know what makes you save Kuroo Tetsurou's life. All you know is there is no world to save anymore, but damn if you're just stupid enough to try.

Genre: hurt/comfort/romance/angst Rating: Mature, subject to change (gore, violence) Kuroo x fem!Reader Word count: 3.5k

hey everyone! here's chapter two, as promised. this fic is also cross-posted to AO3, where i'm under the same username. linked above as well! next chapter, action picks up, plot picks up, and we get more Kuroo, promise. enjoy, and as always, please reblog, like, and comment <3

Nobody ever told you how absolutely boring a zombie apocalypse could be.

Your ragtag group of survivors have scavenged what entertainment they can - books and gym equipment, even a few board games. People like Suga and Takeda keep busy with the children, teaching them to read and garden and how to survive if mommy and daddy never come back for them.

You open one lazy eye as a gaggle of them stumble after Suga, hanging on to his every word.

You’re not sure how the two men handle placing a long knife in a child’s chubby hand, fingers barely able to grip it,and showing them how to strike right at a nighstalker’s heart, fast and deep. Their giggles float through the air and the sound is almost dreamlike and if you keep your eyes closed, you can pretend this is a movie and when you open them, the credits will roll and you can go home.

Others tend to the elderly, of which there are only three in your group. You try to keep them comfortable and as far from danger as possible. But your body constantly prickles with the knowledge that they aren’t just vulnerable - they are a vulnerability. A hole in the brick wall you are attempting to build around this little community.

The healthy and fit young people patrol and take rotations on the watchtowers. Teenagers help with the lessons. Takeda had been firm about this. Once a kid turned seventeen, they were allowed to join the patrols, but until then, they stayed sequestered away.

It was almost comical, telling a tall, strong, angry Tobio that he had to mind the children. He towers over you, but he had bent to your will after a brief glaring contest. And then a week later, Shoyo had bounded into everyone’s hearts, including his, and the pair were inseparable.

Kiyoko, for her part, had taken one look at Yachi, shivering at Hinata’s side, and adopted her, sweeping her under a protective wing and keeping her there.

For people like you, who have no “bedside manner” as Kiyoko puts it, there are chores and day to day mini emergencies to keep you busy. Somehow, in the months since the world finally decided to fall apart, you have become mediator and negotiator. It’s an unlikely role; you can see your mother’s arched brow if she was still alive to see you now.

You barely have the patience for grocery shopping.

She would have laughed, elbowing your father, who would have made a valiant attempt at a straight face.

These are useless memories but you allow yourself to indulge for a moment. You have nothing better to do. Lunch is cooking, inventory has been completed, the guard rotation is set for the next two weeks. Ukai had waved you off this morning when you finally managed to corner him, complaining about your ceaseless energy and the “mad glint” in your eye. His words.

“That look means trouble for me,” he had growled, pointing an accusing finger at you. “Go to your cell and get some sleep for the love of anything you find holy.” Without another word, the man had leaned against a wall, put his feet up on his desk, and closed his eyes. A clear dismissal. You tried not to huff but you definitely stomped a little bit on the way out.

You don’t know how to tell him that staying in your cell, with your eyes closed, is inviting the living nightmares. You don’t know how to tell anyone, really, that you are just as haunted as this prison, as Daichi’s eyes.

That the only holy thing left in this world is fear and if you succumb to that, you’ll never move again.

You let a sigh tumble out of you. Forcibly, you shove your thoughts in another direction.

It had been a week since you brought home your latest stray. Kuroo had spent the first three days doing little else but sleep and eat. Daichi has taken to walking him around the Pit every day, explaining the way things work, and Suga showed him his pride and joy just yesterday. Kuroo had been suitably impressed by the garden, if the generous second and third helpings Suga thought he was sneaking to him at dinnertime were anything to go by.

The man has filled out nicely. He looks less skeleton, more human after sleep and hot food. You had peeked in on him in the grey of dawn that morning after Daichi not-so-subtly hinted that Kuroo had been asking about you.

He sleeps curled up on his side, hair falling against his cheek. In another world, you would have taken a picture.

Kiyoko tells you that the men like him, that Tanaka has stopped regarding him with all the wariness of a stray cat, and that she’s pretty sure Yachi has a crush on him.

You open your eyes into a blazing afternoon, unsurprised to see the subject of your thoughts stretching in the courtyard, the weak sunlight rippling over his bare arms. His black hair is messy as ever and you are struck all over again by how tall he is.

Tobio got a new babysitter, you think with no small amount of amusement. The gangly teenager needs someone to keep him in line and frankly, you don’t have the time and Hinata is just as likely to suggest some stupid shit for them to get into as he is.

You are still stretched out like a cat on a bench, letting the sun warm you, half-hoping it will lull you into a nap.

It’s boredom, more than anything, that makes you turn your head toward Kuroo.

“If you’d like to get some exercise, we have equipment. I’m sure Noya can show you,” you call.

Kuroo jumps and swivels to look at you, eyes wide and so, so dark. You look away. Something about him is like staring at the sun; too long, and your eyes burn.

“Didn’t see you there,” he admits easily, sauntering over to your bench. You eye his approach, noting that he really must be feeling a lot better. His movements are more fluid now, lean muscles becoming apparent on his shoulders.

Daichi has blessed every woman, and a few men, in the Pit by finding Kuroo a pair of grey joggers and a muscle tank top for everyday wear.

“I don’t do well with sitting still,” he says, leaning over you. His head casts you in shadow, blotting out the sun. “This is something I think you can understand.”

Up close, you can see that the shadows beneath his eyes are retreating gradually. His smile looks less like a grimace today.

You hum, swinging your legs over the bench and sitting up. Blood rushes from your head and you lean back against your palms. Kuroo lowers himself to sit next to you.

“Daichi forces me to limit my rotations on the guard towers and patrols,” you answer. “When we first found this place and cleaned it out, I was working overtime and made myself sick. Him and Kiyoko have been conspirators against me ever since.”

Your fingers thrum against your thigh as you say this. You feel more than see Kuroo’s eyes on them.

“They love you,” he points out, a little unnecessarily.

You snort.

“Love is expensive nowadays and everyone in the Pit is broke.”

“You love them back even more.”

You glare at him but he is just looking at you, tracing the planes of your face. A frown tugs at your lips.

“How are you feeling?”

Kuroo rolls his shoulders experimentally, stretching his arms above his head.

“Better,” he affirms. “More like myself.”

“A nosy busybody who talks like a grandpa?”

“Exactly.”

He is grinning now and you have to fight to keep yourself from returning the expression.

The bruises on his face are yellow now. You estimate it will only take a couple more weeks of regular meals for his face to fill out and his skin to look youthful again. You don’t bother asking him how long he had been alone, what happened to his family. None of that matters now. The apocalypse is a great equalizer.

“I talked to Takeda and Kiyoko this morning,” you begin, leaning your head back and closing your eyes against the sun. “They agreed to give you another week before putting you on guard rotation.”

“I would appreciate that. I want to earn my keep, however I can.”

A ghost of a smile dances across your lips.

“You’re just bored,” you tease. It’s been a long time since you felt sleepy and loose enough to tease anyone.

“You say that now, but newbies get the shittiest schedule possible,” you warn him, unsure why you’re telling him this. “Be prepared. Once you’re back to top form, we’ll discuss sending you on patrols for medicine and expanding that garden of Suga’s.”

There’s silence but it’s comfortable, easy. You let yourself enjoy it for just a few moments before standing, opening your eyes and offering Kuroo a full smile and your hand.

As he shakes it, looking only a little confused, you wonder how much longer he would have survived on his own in the city.

“Welcome to the Pit,” you say before turning on your heel and walking away.

~~~

Nightmares are as plentiful as soil on Suga’s fingers.

A sliver of moonlight is all that keeps you from sinking into the darkness, skin clammy, chest heaving. Your fingers twist into the sheets. A prayer is whispered that you didn’t scream this time. You can’t bear the thought of Kiyoko running again, feet bare, knife in hand and tears glistening on her cheeks. Her utter, pure relief haunted you for a month.

It would be so easy, you think, to never get up again.

Kiyoko would care for you. Daichi would stop by, every day, and update you. Ukai would read to you, probably, or nap in your cell, unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.

These are the thoughts that force you up, out, stumbling into your worn boots, shrugging a jacket on.

Takeda finds you in the office hours later, hunched over inventory reports in his neat handwriting, hair pulled back. He puts a pot of coffee on and hands you a steaming mug, holding a hand out for the report you’re struggling to understand.

“Winter is coming,” you sigh as you hand it over. He doesn’t ask about the shadows beneath your eyes, doesn’t comment on the fact that it’s barely six-thirty in the morning and you’ve clearly been awake for a number of hours.

A smile quirks at his lips.

“I didn’t know Tanaka managed to get the TV’s up and running,” he jokes. You wave your hand in a vague gesture, taking another sip of the liquid heaven in your hand.

“We need to get winter supplies,” you answer and that sobers him up. He nods, slowly, eyes roving the paper.

“Winter isn’t for over six months,” he reminds you. An eyebrow is raised. A teacher, waiting for an explanation. In moments like these, you see the high school teacher that you’d found barricaded in his office, babbling a stream of students’ names that Daichi had quietly whispered as your group cut them down, reading them off their uniforms.

On Takeda’s worst nights, as you guarded the door to his cell, you’d heard those same names, apologies and nonsensical gibberish streaming from his mouth as he grappled with his dreams and feverish tremors.

You stand, stretching, before stepping in front of a map of the city that Suga had snagged on one of his patrols. It’s huge, taking up an entire wall. Little markers litter the paper, different colors, and you run your finger over the pale blue ones in the northeast corner.

“There’s a limited supply of winter clothes in the city. I don’t want other groups getting to it first - we don’t need that bastard holding it over our heads when we have food and they don’t,” you remind him. Your arms cross behind your back automatically. “With the snows, we’ll need snow boots. The kids need jackets and thermals. We need to completely outfit the prison’s entire water supply system to last through snowstorms. We need hot water before then or half of us are going to be too sick, and the other half will be taking care of them. We need medicine, too.”

You tick off each item on your fingers, pausing to consider if you’ve missed something. You’re probably missing ten somethings and you struggle to see what they are. You need more coffee.

Takeda is twenty-nine, but when you turn to look at him finally, he seems sixty, glasses dangling from his fingers, nose bridge pinched between his knuckles.

He mutters something suspiciously close to a curse under his breath before opening his eyes.

“You’re right,” he admits. “We’re going to need at least seven months to prepare.”

The morning is a whirlwind. You send the youngest children, always the earliest risers, to fetch Daichi and Kiyoko, both much more bright-eyed than they have any right to be. Takeda drags a yawning Ukai into the office moments later and Tanaka slouches after them. Suga pokes his head in to give you a little wave and knowing smirk that everyone else finds nonthreatening before ushering the children to the cafeteria for their breakfast.

You’re positive you’re not imagining the pale pink coating Daichi’s cheeks.

After explaining the situation, everyone sucks in a collective breath.

Tanaka never sits and always faces a door. From his corner of the room, he glowers at the map.

“Well, fuck,” he neatly summarizes. You nod your appreciation for his conciseness.

“We need to get a hold of meat,” Ukai points out. A something you had missed.

You grab a marker and the portable whiteboard Takeda had grabbed a few weeks ago. In neat characters, you begin documenting everything thrown around the table.

“Raising livestock will be another way to keep the little ones busy.”

“We can’t ask people to shower in cold water during winter, that’s cruel.”

“Tanaka, is there any way to get the heating system up and running by then?”

“What about air conditioning? We have to get through the summer to get to winter, and heat is just as likely to kill us.”

“If other groups realize what we’re doing, we could be in trouble.”

A headache is brewing somewhere behind your temples and you bite back a groan. Kiyoko pushes a cool water bottle into your hand and you know she isn’t fooled for one second.

“I think we’re missing someone here,” Kiyoko points out mildly after what feels like an eternity of circular conversation. All eyes turn to her and she’s unruffled, fingers still wrapped around her mug.

“Kuroo could be a huge help to a lot of this,” she continues. “I’m sure he can help Tanaka and Noya with everything on their list, and we need more able-bodied men on the patrols anyway. He can help us with medicine, our food supply, all of it.”

A furtive glance in Tanaka’s direction is not encouraging. He’s glowering, eyes hooded.

“We barely know him,” Tanaka hisses. You have to privately agree.

“We barely know each other,” Ukai shoots back. “We’ve been here, what, three months?”

“He hasn’t even been on a patrol yet and you want him helping us make important decisions that affect everyone, including the kids?”

“That’s unfair, and you know it, Tanaka,” Takeda says patiently, but somehow reproachfully at the same time. “Kuroo has been in no condition to patrol. The man was emaciated.”

Takeda continues, levying everyone at the table with a stern face.

“We all trust each other now because we took the gamble and brought people in and allowed time to prove it. It was always a risk, and it will always be a risk, but we can’t let that stop us. What we’re doing here is more important than just working together to survive.”

It’s a flowery, nice sentiment, to be expected from a literature teacher, and you barely hold back a snort at Ukai’s warning look.

“None of this matters,” you cut in. “Takeda’s right. And so is Kiyoko. He could be a huge help to you specifically, Tanaka, and he’s getting better every day but we have to give him time before he’s physically ready. You saw him when we brought him in – he was skin and bones.”

Tanaka subsides into grumbling acceptance and you take it as a win.

Daichi returns with Kuroo in tow just minutes later, and if Kuroo is at all confused, he doesn’t show it. He folds himself into a chair, all long limbs and wide feet.

The problems are laid out on the table again. You watch as Kuroo absorbs it, eyes narrowed, flicking sometimes to the map on the wall.

“Frankly, I wish we were in an apartment building,” Tanaka reveals after an hour of debating the best way to acquire livestock.

You sigh, rubbing the heel of your hand into your eyes hard enough to see colors. You know it’s not Tanaka’s fault, that he’s saying out loud something you’d privately thought before. That the electrical systems in apartment buildings would be much easier for him to coax into submission.

But you’re tired. Kiyoko is rubbing the old wound on her shoulder again, Ukai’s fingers are tapping a loud rhythm on the table, and Daichi is watching you lose your mind with that same placid smile in place.

“I wish the apocalypse didn’t happen and we all didn’t have nightmares every damn night, but here we are,” you snap. “I wish we were all cozy in furnished apartments right now, too, and I wish we didn’t have to talk about these things.”

You wish the children didn’t have to hold knives, you wish Suga would stop forcing you to eat, you wish you could forget your mother’s laugh, you wish and wish and wish.

Tanaka’s mouth is open and Daichi is sighing, rubbing a hand over his face. Kuroo’s eyes are expressionless and he just looks like he’s waiting, though for what, you can’t even begin to guess.

You find that you don’t have the energy to regret the words, so you barrel on.

“The apartment buildings are stacked with nightstalkers. It would take weeks to clear even one out, and we would lose people. Guaranteed. We lost one person clearing this prison out and that —”

You’re cut off by a strange choking noise in your throat. The memory of Ennoshita is sweet, cloying, poisonous. Takeda looks pale and strained at the mention of it. His last student.

Your voice is pitched low when you manage to blink away traitorous tears. The sound of your chair scraping is loud and grating against your ears as you stand. They all watch you silently. Waiting.

“Ennoshita is buried here,” you say and the surprise on their faces is almost insulting. “So is Ayasaki’s little girl. We have a life here, one we built and fought for. The kids love it here, it’s as safe as it can get, and it’s isolated from the turf wars in the city. You know why we chose this place, you were part of the vote that decided it, Tanaka.”

Deep breath in. Out.

“I know I’m asking for a lot, but it’s necessary, and we’re all up to the task simply because we have to be.”

As far as motivational speeches go, you’re sure this is ranked pretty low. But Daichi straightens and Kuroo’s eyes are gleaming as he stares at you. Kiyoko is almost smiling and you take that into both of your hands and hold on for dear life.

“I have to protect them.”

Everyone in the room opens their mouth at pretty much the same time but Ukai beats them all to the punch with his lazy drawl.

“You’re a moron,” he sneers. “An absolute idiot if you think you’re doing any of this alone. Now run along and get some breakfast before Suga drags you there by your hair.”

~~~

It doesn’t surprise you when Kiyoko finds you later, on the roof, scribbling half-mad ideas into a plain notebook. She always knows where to find you.

“I think you should stay home tomorrow,” she says without preamble. The word home nearly sends you stumbling off the roof.

“Why? Am I dying and I don’t know it?” you ask dryly. The look she levels at you nearly makes your heart stop.

“We agreed to let Kuroo go tomorrow,” she explains, settling into the spot next to you, peering curiously at the notebook in your hand. “But you haven’t been sleeping and we can’t afford to lose you because you’re too tired to stand properly.”

You scowl. Damn the four eyes. Her and Takeda know too much for their own good.

“I’m fine,” you wave a hand dismissively. “I’ll get some rest tonight, promise.”

She let’s the matter go, which is a point for you, but you watch warily as she opens her mouth again.

“Tanaka is looking for you.”

A sigh.

“I should apologize.”

“That’s what he said.”

A laugh, short and barking, escapes you. Kiyoko smiles at the sound.

“We’re all such idiots.”

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Madness, pt.2

Madness, pt.1

My Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader, Sigurd/Blaeja (mentioned, alluded?)

Summary: So, I wrote a sequel to Madness, I really don’t know what to put in this summary. This takes place in the expanse of a few months/year, but hopefully the pace of the time passing is clearish in the story ;)

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Mentions or allusions of death, mentions or allusions of abduction/kidnapping, mentions of (hypothetical) rape, and I don’t really know what else. Does blood kink count? Cause, subtle blood kink.

A/N: First of all I want to thank all of you for the amazing reception to Madness. I am so thankful, and so humbled you guys like my writing and this story. Really, thank you so much for your feedback, your kind words, and your support. Means the world.

Second of all, I’m sorry it took so long to get the sequel out. I wasn’t exactly planning one but ngl, I have fun writing these two, and I hope this doesn’t dissapoint. Love ya! <3

Putting up the act of being dragged a hysterical, frantic mess of a woman all the way from the docks to the King’s dungeons was not that difficult. You had kept the nervous energy within you ever since you accepted getting on that boat, and finding a release to it was…cathartic, in a way.

The King’s bodyguards that kept firm hands on your upper arms as they took you to the prison that will be your home for who-knows how long don’t push or shove you into the cell, making you wonder how many people are truly aware of this ruse.

The moment the door is closed, the moment you are safe behind the iron bars and away from the crown and its reach, you cannot help the laugh -hysterical, hoarse, crazy laugh- that leaves your lips, that breaks its way out of your lungs.

You are free.

You lay on that cell for so long you forget to keep track of the time, but small little laughs leave your lips every once in a while, as you lean on the tips of your feet to look out the small window, into the foreign sky.

Free.

You laugh again, shaking fingers enclosed around the iron bars, and you hear a shuffling sound behind you.

“These people say I’m crazy. I wonder what they’ll have to say for the Princess that laughs at her own imprisonment.” King Ivar states, squaring his shoulders and standing tall on the other side of that cage door.

You smile, “You did it. You promised, and you did it. You got me out of there.”

“I keep my promises,” He states, resolute, before continuing, “Any other woman would be terrified, not delighted, at being on a Viking’s cell.”

You shrug, “Maybe they are right, maybe I am crazy.”

The King considers you in silence, clear eyes piercing as they take you in, and after a few heartbeats, shakes his head minutely.

“No, not crazy.”

____

You have learned more and more of these Norsemen’s language, and in turn you’ve taught King Ivar more of your own -it didn’t surprise you when he ordered you to teach him, saying when he negotiated with Alfred he didn’t want some meddling translator-; and you’ve learned of their traditions, and their Gods, and their honor.

Heartless, Godless, nothing but barbarians; they used to say. But you’ve seen the mothers loving their children like any Christian would, the faithful honoring their strange Gods in their own way.

They know nothing but bloodthirst, they care for nothing, love nothing; that’s what the soldiers used to whisper to terrify the maidens. But these are a people alive like any other, and yes, they are cold and harsh and brutish, but if their King is anything to go by, they are as capable as humanity as any other.

If you believed their tales, which you never truly did, thanks to King Ecbert’s lessons; it would have all still crumbled to dust and lies before your eyes as you grew closer and closer to the man that ‘abducted’ you.

All their tales of cruelty and ruthlessness and bloodthirst, they are more than true, of course; but they forget to tell of the awkward gentleness with which he holds your hand and presses absent kisses to it; they forget to tell of the cautious vulnerability that shines in those pale eyes when the sun sets and it’s just the two of you and your secrets and your promises; they forget to tell of the shuddered breaths over your lips, the eyes that fluttered closed when you lean close enough, that fill you with warmth to your very core.

They forget many things. Hopefully, they forget to tell about you, too.

Let you be forgotten by those people that killed your mother; let you be forgotten by the God that never looked upon your family with none of his mercy; let you be forgotten by the boy you may have cared for but never loved, not like this.

You spent a fortnight -maybe?- in that cell. It didn’t surprise you, a believable claim that you willingly came with King Ivar to Scandinavia would mean the leverage to return you to Wessex would be null. What did surprise you, though, was that you were very often visited, almost every day, by the King.

He is a fascinating man, he was to you since that first moment. He never ceased to be, even now, after months of secrets and pried truths and reluctant vulnerability and him.

Shortly after, you were allowed more performative freedoms, and it didn’t cost you much to put up an act that slowly waned and disappeared that you feared, hated even, the heathens that took you captive.

You’ve seen the ashen faces of those who returned from battle against the Vikings, you’ve heard the tales of the women that trembled at the memory of the raiders, you’ve known of their fame ever since your mother was gifted her uncle’s head by one of these Norsemen.

It is not hard for you to imagine why a woman -a sane woman, maybe- would fear them. And so, the act is not hard, the ruse is not difficult.

And let them think the King broke you, let them think a poor maiden was stolen from her home, let them think you long to return to your home, let them think you feel nothing but cold. In the meantime, you will be free, and safe, and growing to love a King that gives you nothing but warmth.

____

“I want to learn how to fight.” You tell him one evening, as you watch the sun set over the distant waves, and hear the training warriors somewhere near the longhouse.

He hums at your words, lifting your hand and absently pressing a kiss to the back of it before he asks, “Why?”

You offer a shrug and a small smile as you retort dryly, “A Princess, alone and surrounded by savages, she should have some means of defending herself?”

The King offers a side smile at your jest, and it feels like a tiny victory. Always does. It always has, ever since the first time you saw him, you don’t even remember how long ago.

“I could let someone teach you.” He finally drawls out, slowly, meticulously.

You cannot mask your enthusiasm, you realize too late, “Really?”

“For a price.” He clarifies.

“I wouldn’t expect otherwise. What is your price, my King?”

But he shakes his head, “That secret is mine to keep for now,” Lifting his eyes to yours and knowing he won, King Ivar insists, “Do we have a deal?”

“Yes!” You say quickly, surprising even yourself.

“Are you su-…” The King starts, even as some strange softness teases at his expression. You realize that you have startled him, and somehow that makes the excitement bubbling in your chest greater.

“Yes!” You interrupt, biting your lip and offering a sheepish shrug in apology when he glares at you, “I’m sorry, but yes.”

“Sit down, no one is going to train you now.” He chastises, but you know his tells by now. And the gentle tug of his hand on yours to bring you closer again is not even needed for you to understand he wasn’t ready or willing for you to part form his embrace. You concede with a breathed laugh and a smile that you press against his own lips, and rest against his side with a sigh.

“Thank you.” You whisper, so quietly you barely hear yourself.

“Hm. You know, I never convinced myself you aren’t at least a bit crazy.” He muses, with what you know -but he’d deny to his grave- is a soft kiss pressed to the crown of your head.

____

“Fuck!” You gasp out, Ubbe’s sword a hair’s width away from your neck, “Shouldn’t there be…wooden swords, or something?”

“Don’t you trust me?” The Prince asks around a smile. You answer with widened eyes and pushing his sword away from your neck with your own.

“Not when you hold a blade to my neck, my Prince!”

The Viking laughs, genuine and young, and you find yourself smiling back. You both assume your positions again, even if you are certain you are one sneeze away from being gutted.

“Why did you want to learn anyways? Aren’t you West Saxons supposed to sue for peace instead?” Ubbe starts as he guides your arm through a motion to break out of a block.

“I am Mercian, but yes, we do prefer talking.” You answer, focused on following his indications.

“Then why learn to fight?” The Prince insists.

“I want to be able to defend myself.”

King Ivar calls your name from behind you, a greeting and a demand of your attention as he approaches you and his brother. You turn around, and he inserts himself into the conversation you were having with Ubbe,

“Defending yourself also includes not starting fights you cannot win.”

“Ladies don’t start fights.” You shoot back quickly, side smile on your lips.

You hear him snort a laugh and your smile widens.

“But you do,” Ivar says, just as you deviate with your sword Ubbe’s attempt to strike your leg. “For someone so…”

Pushing back against the other son of Ragnar, you interrupt him.

“Don’t say small.” You grit out as you turn around, fight on pause.

“Small,” He supplies anyways, emphatically. He looks maddeningly delighted when you furrow your nose in annoyance, “You surely seem to love starting fights.”

“If by ‘starting’ you mean not letting you get away with-…”

“Get away? You get the last word every time I e-…”

“Brother, Princess,” Ubbe calls out, eyeing you strangely before motioning with his head, “Training.”

You nod, getting your focus back into place, and try getting used to the unfamiliar weight of the shield in your hands as you face the bearded man again.

Ivar’s voice cuts into your thoughts again, and your concentration evaporates along with your patience.

“Why are you standing like he does? You are half his size, you can’t mimic him and expect good results.”

You face him with gritted teeth, “Well, if my teacher did something other than berating me I could-…”

“You asked for my help.”

“I…shut up,” You sentence, turning back to Ubbe and correcting your stance to something you feel grounded and able to move on. The older Prince looks at his brother, considering, and then takes the shield from you. You let go of it with ease, but still question, “My Prince?”

“He’s right. You are small.”

“Thank you.” You sentence dryly, and the other man chuckles in response.

“I mean we can’t have you fight like you would in the front lines. Instead, fight like you would in an ambush.”

You shrug, because you have no idea what he means, and let him guide you through the movements.

____

You know what he’s going to say before you even hear him.

“Again.”

“Everything hurts.” You groan as you sit up from the cold dirt.

“I don’t care,” Ivar is quick to retort, and you have a feeling he can sense you rolling your eyes, because a taunt is quick to follow, “You Saxons may stop when you are in pain, but Vikings don’t. Again.”

Gritting your teeth and letting one or two curses in your native language leave your lips, you stand up and lift the sword. Prince Hvitserk smiles, hands toying with his axe as she studies you for a moment.

For once, you attack first, slashing towards his side, but the wooden hilt of his axe stops the movement. Not hesitating, you pull back and try again, making the Viking take a couple of steps back.

He breaks the block with a twist of his weapon’s hilt, making your sword slide off and your balance weaken. The victory is his as he raises the great axe over his head with a yell, but you lift the sword, stopping him even as you are forced to grab the blade with your free hand to give more strength to the block.

Blood pours from between your fingers and sharp pain follows, but you keep your attention on Hvitserk and wait for the moment you see him decide to push instead of retreat and attacking again. When his strength focuses on his upper body, like he did to you many times before, you place your boot on his inner thigh and kick outwards.

The force of your kick sends you stumbling back, but you catch yourself. The Viking falls down in his back though, and with enthusiasm you hold the tip of your sword over him. Victory.

You allow yourself a small smile, and Hvitserk shoulders his great axe as he stands up, fight over.

“You are getting better, Princess.” He praises gruffly, and you thank him with a nod.

Whatever dignity you tried gaining with the composed gesture is blown by the way you cannot seem to stop the excited pitter-patter of your feet as you walk back to Ivar.

“Did you see?” You ask. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so wide, and you could swear a little bit of your enthusiasm gets to the King, who smiles at you somewhat softly.

“He went easy on you.”

“I know that.” You answer with a roll of your eyes.

“And you are bleeding everywhere.” Ivar points out, signaling with his head to your hand. Reminded of your wound, you bring up your fist but Ivar is quick to catch it in his own hand.

You open your palm to see a cut running down your palm and similar ones -although not as deep- in your fingers. Your eyes follow the trail of a thick drop of blood that slithers down the side of your hand to your wrist.

Apparently, Ivar’s eyes followed the same droplet, for he moves your hand to his mouth and quickly licks off the offending drop.

“Ivar!” You chastise, tugging softly at the braid at the back of his neck, stopping his tongue from continuing trailing maddeningly the skin at your bloodied hand. He laughs, his eyes darkened when he looks up at you, and you cannot deny the rush of heat that look sends through you.

“I like it when you call me that.” He says, side smile still bearing the mark of your blood. You have the errant, traitorous thought to kiss the stain of blood off his lips, and because you can, because there’s no shame in lust or love, you lean down and do exactly that.

The metallic taste of your own blood on his lips makes you wonder if you could convince him to forget there’s a kingdom past your bed if only for a few hours; steal him away so he can think, taste, or feel nothing but you, so you can think, taste, or feel nothing but him.

Instead, trying to gather your wits and keep your voice even, you answer, “It is your name.”

“But you also call me ‘my King’,” He says, hand still holding yours and moving it so that he can see the wound more clearly. You keep your eyes on his profile, and find yourself startled when he suddenly looks up at you, head cocked to the side. Thankfully he doesn’t notice your eyes tracing the shape of his lips, and instead asks, “And you don’t really mean that, do you?”

You huff a laugh, “You are King of Kattegat.”

“But am I your King?” Ivar insists, eyes narrowed.

“I…” You start, stopping yourself when you realize you have no quick answer to give. You are not Viking; but you also have sworn no fealty to no king or kingdom, not since the ruse of your ‘capture’ was started. Still, you give him his answer in a soft voice, “No.”

He seems almost pleased, his smile turning more sincere when he states, “Call me by my name from now on then.”

You agree with a nod, the only answer your lips give is a smile, before you lean to speak by his ear. You will never cease to be delighted at the wonder mixed with desire that darken his eyes whenever you remind him of how much you want him.

Turns out stealing a King is way easier than you thought. You needed only a whisper in his ear and a sway of your hips.

____

“You are getting better,” The King starts that night, and you turn your attention to him with a smile. The people have months ago stopped staring at the crazy Mercian Princess, and the whispers about how happy she looks even as a captive have quietened; and for the first time since your mother died you have felt safe and comfortable. King Ivar continues, “For a Saxon.”

“You could just compliment me, you know.” You offer with a side smile.

The King uses the hand he holds in his -he always does, he always finds a way to be touching you and your hands seems to be a preference of his- to tug you closer where you sit on the bench next to him, and it is with a breathy chuckle that you find yourself pressed against his side.

He considers you for a few moments, before leaning close to your ear and whispering, so low only you can hear,

“You are a maddening woman, you know that?” His fingers intertwine with yours before he continues, “A maddening, infuriating, crazy woman. The most beautiful and fascinating woman I’ve ever met. The woman I…”

His words die, because they always do. Even if they always do, even if he has never admitted anything, even if he has never said he cares for you, or loves you; your heart still skips a beat every time you dare hope he just might.

But because you’ve grown to know him, to understand, you do not feel pain anymore. You let yourself believe he loves you when you feel his hand reaching for you in the dead of night, as if to make sure you are still there; you let yourself believe he loves you when you are the last one to open your eyes after you make love and find his eyes on you, his expression that of wonder and peace, you let yourself believe many things.

And so, you give the answer to the words he hasn’t -can’t, wouldn’t, shouldn’t- say,

“I love you.”

As always, as every time you tell him of your love since that first time, Ivar’s expression softens, his shoulders drop, as if you bring relief to a part of him you don’t notice is always on edge.

Because he has his tells, and he knows by now you know of them.

And when you tell him you love him and you are alone in the safety of his -your? You don’t remember sleeping anywhere else- room, his eyes close and his lips pull into the smallest of smiles, soft and content.

And when you tell him you love him in the great hall, like now, he drops the tension in his shoulders and claims your mouth, sealing the words against his own lips as if to prove they are real, they are true.

He has his tells, and they betray that even if he does not dare say the words, he does feel the same.

____

You wake up at an absence in your bed, and missing Ivar’s warmth you sit up. You find him sitting by one of the chairs near a window, his hand by his mouth and a furrow in his brow. His eyes are intent on a map of England he keeps on a nearby table, and you realize what kept him awake without needing to hear a word.

“Word from Winchester?” You ask, getting out from under the furs but only moving to the foot of the bed, where you sit with your legs underneath you.

“Mhm. Alfred demanded proof you are safe, and the letter you sent was enough. But, since you are safe, he asks now that you are returned to him. In exchange for Lindsey.”

“Lindsey? Ivar, that’s-…”

“It’ll allow me to take over half of Mercia, I know” He doesn’t seem thrilled at the idea, even if he showed you, you don’t know how many moons ago, that having free access to that region would give him a great advantage. “And Alfred knows too. He knows what you are worth.”

And so the reminder of what this deal entails -your return- falls on your stomach like a dead weight. Of course, of course show could you forget? A Princess stolen in exchange for a ransom to be paid by those who want her back, a while of freedom bought until the offer is made, and if the offer is enough, you’ll sail back to Alfred and need another way to get away from there. One King walks away with new lands, the other with a bride.

But you remember those days spent in Winchester, before he was King, before Blaeja was Sigurd’s wife, before you were his ‘prisoner’; and you remember him asking what if he didn’t wish to return you to Alfred.

You remember that, and you remember every day since; and so you hope, and taking a deep breath and steeling yourself for the response, you ask,

“What will you do?”

He considers you in silence, with cold, calculating eyes. But with a grunt, he throws something he was holding in his hand and takes his eyes away from yours. You startle, but say nothing. You don’t think there’s much -if anything- you can say.

Tension is written all over his form, and after a few calculated breaths, he meets your eyes again.

“Marry me.”

“What!?” You squeak. He calls you a mad woman then comes up with these ideas.

But Ivar settles with calm, with certainty, in his madness. Like when you’ve seen him plan an attack, you realize he has thought of the alternatives, the outcomes. And, like in strategy, like in chess, he has certainty in what the next move must be.

He stands, using the crutch to move closer to you and sits next to you on the bed. His hand runs through your hair and settles comfortably at the back of your neck.

“I took a Princess from him, but he won’t take a Queen from me.”

“W-What are you saying?”

“They won’t make Queen of Wessex and Mercia a woman that was made wife to a Viking, much less Queen of Kattegat.”

Your heart beats madly in your ears, you feel like one of those trapped rabbits you saw the hunters bring back. You only look back at him with a knot in your stomach and wide eyes.

“And Lindsey?”

“We’ll threaten to send you in pieces if he does not send those papers, if he doesn’t concede. When he does, we’ll announce we’re married. They’ll think I stole you away and forced you, but they won’t be able to take you away, since we’ll be husband and wife.”

“In the eyes of your Gods. It will be nothing but pagan nonsense to the church. They’ll annul it, claim I was raped and so I am still fit to marry Alfred.”

And in the blink of an eye you are back in that hidden room in Winchester’s palace, sneaking thanks to Blaeja and her Prince to meet with the man that promised to steal you away; exchanging ideas and hopes on how to make this work.

“We’ll marry before their God too.”

He says it certainly, with no hesitation. He truly thinks of it all, doesn’t he?

And you wish you could say yes, you wish you could accept and finally seal your future away from England’s hands. You truly do, but…

“No,” You whisper, feeling the tears threaten at your eyes. The moment the simple word leaves your lips, you have another man standing before you. Closed off, with an edge of cruel madness shining in his gaze. “I’ll find another way. I won’t marry you for a business deal.

With a snarl of anger making his nose furrow, his jaw tighten, the King lets you go. You stand on shaky legs and walk a few steps to where he used to sit, eyeing the map of the land that saw you be born.

The land that might see you die, if they give you no choice but to return.

But Ivar calls your name, and interrupts your dark thoughts. It is the uncertainty where before there was strategy, the vulnerability where before there was confidence, the softness where before there was steel; what makes you turn to him with a new kind of tension taking over your body.

“T-Then marry me because I love you.” He whispers, a twitch in his expression speaking of how unmoored he is, how uncomfortable with the confession, with the possibilities it opens before you. With the power it gives you.

It should thrill you, to know you hold power over him. He has held power over you for so long, he has had your love for so long, it is only fair you have his heart in exchange. But the fear you see shining in his pale eyes startles you, softens you, breaks you.

So you step closer, so close he can reach up with one rough hand and set his touch at your waist -he always finds a way to be touching you, he always does- and he does, his eyes following his hand before meeting your own again.

“This is madness.” You whisper, and his lips curve into a smile, because he understands, he knows.

And the answer leaves your lips as easily as your feet jumped into that ship, and you whisper your yes against hungry lips, forgetting there’s a world past the two of you.

____

So, that is it! Hope you liked it, and hope you didn’t mind the lil Persephone’s abduction imagery sprinkled about, I am way too invested in Greek mythology atm for it not to show in most of what I write lol.

Btw, Lindsey is a region in the Kingdom of Mercia, here’s a map in case you were curious :)

Would love to know what you think, and thank you so much for reading!

[umbralstars]

Basically an "All you need to know" about how I personally write Byleth/All of my Byleth headcanons. This is probably not everything but it's still long enough I have to put it under the cut.

* His birthday is 26 day of Blue Sea Star Moon 1159

- I know that 20 of Horsebow is probably the canon date but I've always used this one since my first playthrough and keep it cause I find it funny

* Byleth has all kinds of memory issues

* Demi-panromantic & demisexual

*Trans masc (He/Him & They/Them)

- He remembers and has dreams of things that are from when Sothis was alive

- He sometimes has trouble recalling facts about the world he lives in (such as who is currently ruling, his teaching plans or things that he has taught before, sometimes can't recall where he is). He keeps a journal of important things that he saw, learned, needs to know etc

+ Caused by being misaligned with Sothis' soul and her consciousness trying to overtake his own

+ He doesn't lose memories outright and can recall things if given the right direction. Once a memory is solidified as more long term it's much harder for him to forget it

- Sothis' memories can cause bad flashbacks that can take him minutes to get out of

+ Jeralt and the other mercenaries look out for him when episodes happen. They often have him talk about them afterwards if he wants too (ie like Jeralt and Byleth's conversation at the beginning of the game after the dream about Seiros/meeting with Sothis)

+ He can't speak during them and gets very spacey

- Fighting and strategy is instinctual for him so memory issues in those areas are non-existent

- When his soul fuses with Sothis' his memory problems mostly cease. All the memories about his own life are permanently solidified and he can somewhat tell the difference between his memories and Sothis'. He still can be paralyzed by her memories but has a much easier time getting out of dazes

* Has a love for learning about the history and culture of Fodlan and everywhere else

- When he was little Jeralt would often tell him stories and folktales about Fodlan while they were riding across the country side. The pre-month cutscenes during White Clouds are Byleth recalling those stories

- Loves learning about the places outside of Fodlan just as much as learning about Fodlan itself

- His favorite books are about history or folklore

* At a crossroad between trusting people implicitly and keeping others at arm's length

- His life as a mercenary certainly wasn't easy, even though he doesn't resent it, so he tends towards giving others the benefit of the doubt even when he may doubt their intentions. Cautiously trusting if you will. Some people may view him as naive because he's willing to trust off the bat and he's fine with that.

- Does fall in line with mercs not really trusting nobles but he points that more towards the parents currently in power and not the kids he knows

- Goddess help you if you break his trust. Once you break his trust it's very hard to actually get it back unless you give him cause for why it was broken in the first place

* Very protective of the people he cares about

- Death or injury of people he care for has always been his biggest fear. His family has always tried to tell him it's just a fact of life, their life especially, but he would rather fight tooth and nail to keep someone alive then to just let them die

* Really good with children actually

* Takes his job as a teacher very seriously. He knows how rough Fodlan and fighting can be, so wants to impart good lessons in the hopes of making his students' lives easier. He knows that some of them have already seen horrors or have been on battlefields, so he treats each person accordingly

* Has a really bad resting bitch face so people think he's really intense/scary when first meeting him

- He has complicated feelings towards being perceived as "intense" or "terrifying" since on one hand it's very useful when he needs to be perceived that way, but on the other hand he feels like that first impression makes it hard to connect with people afterward

- He doesn't ever go out of his way to make people perceive him differently mostly because it would be a hassle and he's thinks people who really know him would understand he's not like that

* Byleth is actually very introverted and somewhat has social anxiety

- He spent almost his entire life around the same people moving from place to place so introversion aside he's not the most experienced about talking to new people

- He never stops people when they want to talk and doesn't really hate talking to people it's just that he doesn't go out of his way to do it unless he likes talking to someone or it's important

* Jeralt's mercenary company is his family and the people he's closest to until Garreg Mach. The Mercenaries are an elite group of about 13 people of various backgrounds

- All of them are basically his aunts and uncles cause they practically raised him alongside Jeralt. He does call a lot of them Aunt and Uncle as well

- One or two are also like siblings to him cause they joined with their parent or when they were younger (like 15)

- They were the only people able to get close to Byleth or get him to talk for the first week or so after Jeralt's death

- I need to expand on them more cause they're very important to me and him

* Byleth has trouble outwardly expressing emotions and understanding his own. He actually feels very deeply but just has trouble really expressing it. Very monotone and straight to the point when he speaks and only slight shifts in tone tells how he's really feeling. Actually has hyper empathy

- Grew up like this despite Jeralt and the Mercenaries' best efforts. Jeralt was always best as reading him because he acted so much like Sitri

- Caused once again by a misalignment with Sothis' soul

- After his awakening, Byleth has a better ability to express himself, and even took on some of Sothis' characteristics, but he still has trouble explaining or talking about what he's feeling

* Generally very calming to be around for most people. Won't ever force anyone to talk but will talk if you start conversation

* Has done some very questionable work as a mercenary

- He has taken on a few assassinations in the past despite Jeralt's insistence he never get his hands dirty like that. The Remire Medicine Incident is one not spoken of much within the company

- He's dealt with brigands, putting down rebellions, guarding caravans, guarding nobles, helping train the standing armies, etc everything under the sun. Will practically do anything if the pay is right

- He does have standards and expects a full rundown of the job beforehand like his father and the rest of the company though

* Loves cats and dogs

* Actually pretty religious and devout by the time of his awakening

- He wasn't completely raised without knowledge of the Church as some of the mercenaries are religious, but he was agnostic for a good portion of his life

- As he lived at Garreg Mach and learned more about the Church's teachings he grew to appreciate it more and more

- Rhea taught him a lot during his many conversations with her

- As Archbishop he does his best to learn every aspect of the Church and exemplify them best he can. Really emphasizes giving aid to those in need, leans heavily into the "Goddess" aspect of his soul, reforms many aspects whilst keeping the core of the faith

- Personally speaks to Sothis on more of an equal and friend level then true God and devotee

- Does become known as the Holy Saint and Avatar of the Goddess within the Church years after he steps down as Archbishop. Doesn't really know how to feel about it but can't say his inclusion is wrong

* Byleth doesn't have the highest opinion of Edelgard

- As I write AM/VW Byleth he was never close to Edelgard at all during his time at Garreg Mach

- He really only sees her as the person who started the whole continental war (which he despises as he very much dislikes war in its entirety) and the person he believes to at least be complicit in his father's death (do not debate with me how much Edelgard knew Kronya's plan. This is entirely how Byleth views what happened)

- He never wished for her death, but does view her as someone very misguided and only wishes she never went as far as she did

* Very terrified of sleep after waking up post-Time Skip

- Fears falling asleep and loose more parts of his life an leaving everyone behind again

- Prefers to have someone close by who can wake him or being woken up in the morning

- Got into the unhealthy habit of just working himself into exhaustion and having a very irregular sleep schedule until his friends had an intervention to talk about what was going on

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Another One?!, Part 5

First > Previous > Next

It turns out that people with access to military-grade equipment are not the type of people you want to dislike you.

Really, the only reason she was still alive was because being Ladybug made her marginally more lucky than the average person.

From people in holding randomly getting out from time to time and somehow managing to get their hands on a weapon, to getting shot by ‘malfunctioning’ firearms, to constant bomb threats, to the one time someone actually tried to drop an anvil on her head, things were just not looking good for Marinette.

And, it turns out, being a boss is just a hard thing in general. When they weren’t attempting to kill her, they were coming to her with questions. She spent most of her day in the office, scanning through manual after manual. She got basically zero breaks, because even when she had a sign on her door saying she was eating lunch they still came in to ask her things.

And then, at the end of the day, she’d get home… things weren’t great there, either.

Barbara had moved in after a year of dating Dick (Marinette had been stunned to learn that their relationship was actually real but that had quickly been dropped when she realized that Barbara was actually a responsible adult that could take care of herself). She had banned caffeine in the house when she’d seen Marinette and Tim’s coffee habits and, unfortunately, everyone else had been perfectly happy to enforce this for her.

This meant that she only had about four hours when she got home to patrol before her exhaustion caught up with her and she’d be forced to go home and collapse on the couch.

On top of that, tensions in the house were high. It turns out that one of the biggest problems with avoiding your problems for years is that emotions get pent up inside and it gets harder and harder to ignore. No one had completely snapped yet, but even the densest person in the world would have been able to recognize that it was coming.

It didn’t help that she no longer had time for baking, which was her normal way of relieving stress…

And let’s just say they were lucky none of them were going on patrols together, those kinds of high-stress situations do not help.

~

Adrien needed sleep.

He worked ten hours a day, which isn’t that much longer than average but was still emotionally taxing considering his job was teaching.

Then, he’d go on patrol for a few hours. He liked patrol, beating up random people is great for stress, but it was physically exhausting.

Then, he’d come home.

And he’d have two kids and an adult to keep alive.

(Barbara had the night shift, which meant that Adrien was alone for this. He swore it was on purpose.)

He’d go to his room and find Dick swinging around on the indoor gym they’d had installed (they were getting tired of him breaking light fixtures and had given in and put little hand and footholds on the ceiling for him to climb around on).

And then Dick would fall asleep, often hanging from the ceiling still, and Adrien would pick him up and take him to his room and tuck him in.

He’d rush back to his room, desperate to get there for just a second of sleep, only to find that, no matter how quick he was, Jason would already be on the bed. You would think that Adrien would be able to sleep. After all, Jason would be reading a book... that’s supposed to be a quiet thing…

Well, you see, the problem is that Jason reads books like people watch soap operas. He’d curse out characters and call them stupid, tell Adrien contextless jokes, and occasionally close his book to vent about what was going on.

And, eventually Jason would sleep. Adrien wouldn’t move him because a) it would wake him up and b) on the very small chance it didn’t wake him, Jason sometimes half-joked that when he woke up alone he feared that they’d left him behind…

So, yeah, Jason got to stay in the room.

Adrien would blink and then he’d find Tim in the door with his computer.

Tim, it seemed, would actually wait to see if Adrien was okay with it if he came in. He always stood in the door, hugging his laptop to his chest, and wouldn’t dare come inside until Adrien said he could.

Of course Adrien would sigh and nod his head yes, making a joke about how his kids were sleeping in shifts to annoy him, and move over on the bed a bit to let Tim on.

And then Tim would do homework or play games on his computer.

Adrien hated the sound of clicky keyboards. He’d had no clue he was alone in this until one day he complained about it and everyone in the room had stared at him like he was crazy.

But, yeah, the keyboard made him want to die. He just wanted to sleep...

And then Barbara would poke her head in after a long night’s work to tell Adrien that it was time for him to get ready for work.

Sprinkle in one or two probably life-threatening accidents and you’d have a typical night for him.

Now, you might be thinking, why doesn’t he just fall asleep on the couch?

Beyond the fact that the kids would just… follow him there, Adrien was also a rich kid growing up. He couldn’t sleep on couches. They’re uncomfortable.

No, now his only saving grace was the fact that Barbara didn’t have a way to monitor the coffee machine at his work.

… Oh kwami, he had become what he’d hated.

~

She dropped onto the bed -- she’d had enough energy to make it all the way there for once -- and glared at the mostly empty bulletin board on Antony Agoura. The man was smart, unfortunately, opting to keep his identity a secret as much as possible. He used a fake name. He wore gloves no matter what. He used solely cash…

And it wasn’t like she was going to be able to lure him out again. That had been an intimidation tactic, a way of saying ‘leave it alone or you’ll see exactly what I can do’.

And, as much as she hated to admit it even to herself, she was a little bit scared of him. For the first time since Zucco, the person she was facing knew who she was as a civilian, and she hated that she’d lost that advantage. Even if her family was better trained in self-defense than most, they weren’t invulnerable and they couldn’t be careful every second of the day.

Part of her was tempted to pack up and go on the run like they had done with Zucco… but the situations were different. With Zucco they knew they would eventually be able to catch him but with Agoura...

She closed her eyes, unable to look at it any longer.

Fuck. She was really screwed this time, huh?

She felt someone sink into the bed next to her and reached out for them. She didn’t really care who it was as she buried her face in their shoulder.

Sleep…

Less than a minute later, her phone buzzed to tell her that it was time to start cooking everyone’s meals for the day and she mumbled a curse before peeling herself away from the person. She squinted a little bit in the dark to see who it was. Tim.

She yawned and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Want to cook with me?”

“I’d burn the house down.”

“Probably. Want to stand nearby and make sure I don’t fall asleep while cooking so nothing burns?”

He shrugged a little bit. “Don’t see why not.”

They both crawled out of bed and she used him for support as they made their way down to the kitchen.

~

Adrien had been on patrol when she’d appeared.

And ‘appeared’ was definitely the way to describe it. He’d been relaxing on a rooftop, giving himself a few second break to just breathe in silence for once… and then he’d felt a hand shaking his shoulder.

He fought the urge to jump or lash out, his head whipping around to look at the person who was shaking him.

It was… a girl?

Actually, she looked about Jason’s age, so maybe a woman?

It didn’t matter. She looked terrified. Her eyes were so wide it looked almost exaggerated, her lips drawn into a deep frown.

The more he took in about her appearance the more concerned he was. Her stance was wide, which likely meant she fought often. Her clothes were ratty and torn. The little parts of her skin that weren’t caked in dirt were split with cuts that were either infected or about to be infected.

He rested a hand over hers as gently as he could and looked at her. “How are you up here? Actually, that doesn’t matter. What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Is your family hurt?”

She waved her free hand around frantically. Wordlessly.

He raised his eyebrows.

“Do you not speak English? Or are you mute? Deaf?”

He realized all these questions weren’t going to get answers and he sighed. Crap, what could he do?

He mulled it over for a second before snapping his fingers. He held up a finger for one minute, then held up his hands and made a tiny ‘stay’ motion with them just in case, and then ran to the nearest convenience store.

He didn’t care enough to detransform. It got him through the line quickly, at least.

He found a pen and a pad of paper and returned to the rooftop…

She wasn’t there anymore.

He sighed, a mix of frustration and concern coursing through him. He closed his eyes and shook his head. He should get back to patrol. Maybe he’d find her and/or whatever situation she was trying to get his attention for…

He opened his eyes and actually did jump this time. She was right in front of him. What? He hadn’t heard her…

He shook off his growing unease and handed her the notepad and pen.

She frowned, her face a little more than confused. Had she never seen a pen and paper before? Surely that couldn’t be right…

Still, he gently took the paper and pen back and wrote a tiny question mark.

He handed it over again and she looked at the mark like she’d never seen it before. Maybe her language didn’t have question marks…?

Then she started doodling.

Well, his plan had been for her to write whatever it was down and he would see if his phone would translate it, but he guessed this would work, too.

The first drawing explained some of the girl’s problems with communication. It was a little doodle where the mouth and ears had been X-ed out. She couldn’t speak or hear… or, at least, that’s what he’d figured.

He searched his memory for his old sign language lessons. Unfortunately, though, sign language is something that has to be practiced. All he could do is fingerspell “U O-K?”

She didn’t seem to understand.

Fair enough. He was pretty sure he was using LSF, anyways, and he didn’t exactly know for sure how close that was to ASL… or whatever other language she could have known. He couldn’t really tell much about where she was from, her skin was covered in dirt, okay?

She started doodling the rest of her life story and he nearly punched something. Probably would have if he hadn’t been scared he’d startle her or scare her off.

Whoever her dad was, he was committed to killing him if he wasn’t dead already.

He smiled at her and tried to think of a solution. He couldn’t take her to the police. Even with Marinette in charge, there was only so much she could do to keep the kid safe. An orphanage wouldn’t accept her because he doubted she was a legal US citizen.

He sighed. Marinette was going to kill him…

He reached out a hand to her to tell her to follow and blinked in surprise when she actually took it. Wow. He trusted her.

He tried not to feel proud as he led her home. He probably should have been scared that she was a spy or lying, but he found himself trusting her…

Weird, but he had bigger problems.

He detransformed a little bit outside the house and slowly walked to the door. He pushed it open and cringed when it creaked. Please don’t be home…

Marinette shifted under her blanket and opened an eye to look at him.

He quickly pushed the girl behind himself and smiled at his wife. “Wow, it’s you. You’re home. Wow.”

“Yeah, amazing, right?” She rubbed her eyes and gave him a tired smile. “How was patrols?”

“Great. Uneventful. Definitely good.”

Her smile dropped into a frown. “You’re acting weird.”

“What? Me? Acting weird?”

“Yeah… are you coming inside?”

“Uh… no. Actually, I think I’ll go back on patrols.”

She clicked her tongue. “You’re hiding something. I’m too tired for this, Adrien. Fess up.”

He cringed a little bit and slowly led the new adoptee inside.

The girl clutched Adrien’s shirt sleeve anxiously. He did not think this was a good thing.

Marinette stared at the girl in front of her for a while before a way too wide smile crossed her face. “Adrien…” She began slowly, before shaking her head. Her smile widened, somehow. She looked up, her voice sickly sweet: “Hey! Sweeties! Come down here.”

The reaction was instantaneous. There was a mad scrambling noise and they appeared in the doorway, expressions frazzled.

“Whatever happened, it was Dick!” Said Tim before anyone could speak.

Dick gasped. “No! It wasn’t!”

Marinette gave a pleasant laugh. “You’re not in trouble. Boys, could you help her get cleaned up for me, please?”

“Why is there another kid? Why does he have another one?” Said Jason incredulously.

When neither parent answered, they started ushering the girl away.

She grabbed Adrien’s arm when he tried to disappear through the door with them. “Not. You. Transform, we’re going out.”

He tried not to look too scared as they both transformed. She kept a way too tight grip on Adrien as they made their way through the town, as if she thought he was going to suddenly run away.

Fair enough. He was absolutely considering it.

But he didn’t. That would only make things worse.

They stopped at a relatively abandoned part of town and she turned to him, letting go to cross her arms over her chest.

“Explain.”

~

Did she feel bad for the kid that Adrien had adopted? Sure. No one deserves that kind of life…

But that didn’t calm her down in the slightest.

She was trying to relax herself. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she heard him out to keep herself from yelling or interrupting, her nails dug into the skin of her palms to keep her grounded…

Adrien finished with a sigh and a “I don’t regret it, she was in trouble and it’s our job to protect civilians.”

She didn’t know why those words made her anger worsen. There was some sense in them, and yet she had to strain to keep her voice level when she spoke: “Just once, could you actually just own up to a mistake you make?”

“I’ll own up to a mistake when I actually think it’s a mistake!”

“Whatever.” She thrummed her foot on the floor. “We can’t keep adopting random kids, Chat, there’s only so much we can do!”

“They need our help!”

“Bullshit! You need them more than they need you! Newsflash! Helping a bunch of kids isn’t going to make your own childhood any better!”

Adrien flinched and she felt a twinge of guilt finally poke through the anger, but before she could apologize he was jabbing his finger in her chest.

“At least my terrible coping mechanism helps people! You want to pull trauma into this? What about the fact that we still can’t say Lila’s name? What about the fact that you refuse to make friends with people our age because you fear them leaving you?”

She winced and her face reddened. “Okay, but does that inconvenience you? No! At least mine is only self-destructive! Yours is going to drag the entire family down with you! We’ve already fucked up these kids for sure, but you just keep making it worse and worse by spreading our limited time thinner!”

“Shut up! What do you know? You hardly ever talk to them anyways! You’re always at work or asleep!”

“Really? And whose fault is that? If you’d just stuck to the actual plan B instead of going out and attacking all the cops in the GCPD there wouldn’t have been as much attention on what had happened!”

He rolled his eyes. “I’VE ALREADY TOLD YOU THAT I HAD TO DO THAT! IT WAS TO KEEP EVERYONE AWAY FROM THE SECURITY ROOM TO KEEP PEGASUS SAFE!”

“PLEASE! NO ONE WAS GOING TOWARDS THE SECURITY ROOM! YOU’RE JUST AN IMPULSIVE DICK!”

“ARE YOU REALLY CALLING ME IMPULSIVE?!”

“YOU ADOPT KIDS LIKE THEY’RE POKEMON! OF COURSE I’M GOING TO CALL YOU IMPULSIVE!”

“YOU’RE THE ONE WHO ALWAYS GETS IN RANDOM FIGHTS BECAUSE YOU’RE NEVER CAREFUL!”

She groaned and fought to make herself relax enough to speak without yelling. They were in a relatively abandoned part of Gotham but that didn’t mean that there was no one around. The last thing they needed on top of everything going on was to have their fight end up in the papers.

Adrien was clearly doing the same, because he was quiet for a long time before he spoke in little more than a whisper:

“Do you not want to be a part of the family anymore?”

She opened her mouth to say ‘of course I want to be a part of the family’, but no sound came out. She wasn’t sure why she was even hesitating. She cared about them, obviously. She wouldn’t be working so hard if she didn’t…

But it was definitely a lot.

She could only handle so much at once. Beyond the powers she was just a human, and supporting that many other people is hard. Especially considering she essentially had two jobs to keep up with, as well…

The longer she went without answering the more tears spilled over his mask. Still, he was waiting for her answer. He was waiting for some kind of verbal confirmation that she couldn’t do it anymore.

She reached up and gently cupped his cheeks, wiping his tears away with her thumb.

“Chat, I…” She swallowed thickly. “I don’t know how much more we can do.”

He hesitantly brought his hands up to rest over hers. “I know. I just… I can’t just leave them. They always look so sad.”

She’d fallen in love with Adrien for his kindness and now it was the thing that was threatening to tear their marriage apart.

But he’d fallen for her because of her problem solving skills. And she was determined to not let this be the one problem she failed to solve.

The problem wasn’t exactly that he was getting more kids. Marinette loved kids.

The problem was that they didn’t know if they could raise kids without messing them up too badly.

Part of it was that everyone in the family had had one or more big events that had traumatized them, and it looked like it was finally time that they started getting past it.

Could they even get past it at this point? It had been over two decades since Marinette and Adrien had originally gotten their traumas, what if it was too late? What would happen if they somehow did get over it? It had been a part of them for such a long time, what would they be without it?

And then there was the kids. Could they even get them to go?

It was worth a shot, at least...

And the other change they needed to make was to make more time for their kids.

Neither of them were going to give up their day jobs (Adrien wouldn’t and Marinette, unfortunately, couldn’t just yet). That meant that they either needed to get caffeine in the house or give up vigilantism…

Well, cross of the giving up vigilantism thing automatically. On top of just not being able to give up on the city they were in when there was still so much to fix, they knew it would only be temporary. They’d already tried to give up vigilantism. They simply couldn’t bring themselves to.

So that left trying to get caffeine past Barbara. The kids (outside of Tim) were very much against caffeine and they worked very hard to make sure neither Marinette or Tim ever managed to get their hands on it. From purposefully making sure Marinette and Tim couldn’t go anywhere without one of them to monitoring the break room camera at her work to make sure she didn’t drink any, the kids were determined to make sure Marinette couldn’t get her hands on anything.

But Adrien could. No one would suspect him.

She bit her lip. This wasn’t going to go over well. Getting Adrien to therapy AND make him get caffeine? Man, this was going to suck.

“Chaton… I might have an idea… but you’re going to have to hear me out…”

~

He and Marinette were arguing again, though this was far more light-hearted.

“We are not opening another portal. We’re already lucky enough that this dimension hasn’t collapsed on us, we aren’t testing it.”

He rolled his eyes and stopped scratching runes into the wall to glare at her. “Would you rather we let a girl-woman-female-you-know-what-I-mean room with a guy?”

“What about we give her Jason’s room and let Jason sleep with us? He comes into our room to sleep either way.”

“Jason still uses his room to store things.”

“This is a bad idea, Chaton…”

He grinned. “Mhmm.”

“This is what I meant when you said you’re stupidly impulsive.”

“Would you rather do it?”

“Sure.”

He rolled his eyes. “And that’s what I meant when I said you don’t care about your own health. It’ll be fine.”

She clicked her tongue and motioned for him to go on.

He finished scratching the last rune and sighed when he saw some weird tentacle monster slowly unfurling itself on the other side. He got to his feet quickly and raised his staff to fight it, only to cringe when he heard Dick and Jason scream downstairs.

“I’ll deal with that, do you have this taken care of?”

She winced. “Sure. Where exactly is the portal, to be sure?”

He pointed it out and then ran downstairs.

Jason was currently not having a good time, it seemed. The bottom half of his body had been swallowed by a hole in the floor and he was struggling to get a hold on the slick floors.

Dick was also there, screaming incoherently from one of the ceiling lights.

Adrien ran over and grabbed one of Jason’s arms and started slowly pulling him out of the portal. After a bit Dick snapped out of it and scrambled to help.

The three were panting by the time they managed to get him all the way out.

“What the heck what the heck what the heck what the heck --,” Dick mumbled, holding his heart.

Jason, though just as shaken, seemed to be getting over it quickly. “How do we fix that?”

“Don’t remember, ask your mom,” mumbled Adrien as he crawled over to the portal on the floor and peered down.

It was a tiny group of people crowded around a computer.

Wait, what the heck were they wearing? Were they cosplaying as vigilantes? They definitely had the tacky outfits down if they were but Adrien didn’t know who they could be. Well, it had been a long time since they’d visited the Justice League, maybe he just didn’t know them…

He cleared his throat awkwardly and flashed them a blinding smile.

“Um… sorry about this, we’ll fix it as quickly as possible.”

“Was that… was that Dick Grayson?” Said the tallest of them.

Was he dressed as a bat? Why was he dressed as a bat? Dressing up like animals wasn’t technically their thing but on the other hand it was absolutely their thing. Adrien was almost offended.

Wait, he’d said something. He tried not to go pale when his brain finally processed it. This wasn’t exactly how he’d wanted the world to find out their identities…

“What kind of name is Dick Grayson? Ha! Lame!”

Dick sent him an affronted look from where he was on the floor. Adrien gave him an apologetic smile and a shrug.

Jason came back down with a baking pan. “Mom said to drop something through, so…”

“What’s that?”

“Brownies.”

“You’re dropping our brownies down there? Are you trying to kill them?” Asked Dick.

Adrien blinked once then sighed. “It could have worked for once. Be nice.”

Jason scoffed. “It didn’t. She forgot sugar. That’s why we’ll give it to them.”

“Sorry about this!” Said Adrien as Jason dropped the pan through the portal.

As promised, it closed now that something had been sacrificed.

The three looked at each other for a few seconds before Dick looked away and said, “So… pretend this never happened?”

“Yep.”

~

She cursed as she fell back on the couch, never mind the fact that Adrien was already laying there. Her husband made a quiet ‘oof’ sound as she dropped on top of him. She was hopped up on caffeine and ready to bond with her kids but the problem was that the kids, in fact, had lives.

The little time that Marinette and Adrien didn’t have work was taken up by patrols, by Jason’s homework, by Tim’s extracurriculars, by Dick’s job...

“There’s still not enough time.”

“We might have to stop being vigilantes for a bit…” He said, though he sounded reluctant. “Or rotate off by day…”

She didn’t like the idea either, but it didn’t seem like they had much choice in this if they wanted to be better for their kids. They’d already had to cut back on vigilantism because of their jobs and need for sleep, could they really cut it out of their lives entirely? Just like that?

No, there had to be something they could do. The city was still the most crime ridden city in the world. They couldn’t give up on it.

But then what to do…?

She watched Tim stumble in with a dislocated shoulder and squeaked, pushing herself off of her husband and rushing over.

“Shit! What happened?”

“I… might have messed up a boomerang-horseshoe-thingy catch and it might have hit me in the shoulder.”

She clicked her tongue. “Right. I’m going to reset it on three. One, two --.”

Tim gave a grunt of pain as she pushed his shoulder back into place.

“You should have told someone, how long were you fighting with a dislocated shoulder?”

“A little while…”

She shook her head and glanced at Adrien to give him the ‘kids, right?’ look, only to find him lost in thought.

He snapped out of it and flashed her a grin.

“I think I have an idea. How do you feel about going back on patrols with partners?”

~

He stretched across his family’s lap as they waited.

Adrien, Marinette, Dick, Jason, and Tim all sat in a therapist’s office for family counseling. They would have invited Cass but the whole ‘not speaking’ thing made therapy difficult. They actually had invited Barbara, only to get shut down because apparently she didn’t want to ‘deal with all that mess’.

So, it was just them.

Well, I say ‘just’ like five people isn’t a lot of people to have in a single therapy session. The poor therapist looked like she was going to have a heart attack when she saw all of them waiting for her.

Good thing they'd chosen the shortest session...

“Um… Agreste?”

“Yep!” Said Dick, far too brightly for a therapy session but whatever.

“Cool… right this way!”

His family glanced at each other before shrugging and pushing Adrien off of their laps in unison. He pouted up at them from his new place on the floor, but no one seemed all that guilty about it.

Marinette did reach out and pull him to his feet by the back of his shirt, though, so there was at least that.

They filed into the therapist’s room and took a seat on yet another couch.

Dr. Quinzel smiled at all of them. “Okay, does anyone have anything they’d like to start us off with?”

The family eyed each other warily. They were here as civilians, so they had to make sure not to slip up and talk too in depth about most things…

“Jason keeps calling me ‘Replacement’!” Said Tim, finally.

Marinette and Adrien frowned at Jason, who was attempting to sink into his hoodie.

“Well, we definitely didn’t know about that…” said Marinette.

“Of course you didn’t!” Said Jason. “You’re hardly ever around!”

Tim sighed. “They’re just busy.”

Adrien flinched. That was way too close to the excuse he used to make for his own father for his liking. Were they really that bad? Sure, he and Marinette were definitely not around as much as they’d like to be, but they were making an effort… did that really matter, though?

“No, Jay is right. We’ll try and do more. We’ve talked about how we’re going to free up time for you guys recently, actually. We’re hoping to include you more in our...” He glanced at Dr. Quinzel. “... hobby. Do more things with you in general, really.”

Marinette nodded her agreement.

She glanced at the boy’s faces and then clicked her tongue. “Anyone have problems they want to share?”

“No, our family is perfect how it is!” Said Dick brightly, his gaze fixed on the window.

Adrien followed his gaze to make sure nothing bad was going down on the streets and then sighed. “Dick, there has to be something. You’ve been just as tense as the rest of us recently.”

“Nope! Everything’s great!”

Everyone else exchanged skeptical looks but they couldn’t really feel comfortable pushing --.

Dr. Quinzel frowned a little bit. “Okay. We’ll come back to you when everyone else has had their say, then. Hopefully you’ll be more comfortable then.”

Dick gave a charming smile. Dr. Quinzel didn’t seem all that perturbed as she turned to look at Marinette.

His wife pursed her lips tightly as everyone else’s eyes went to her and she smoothed out the front of her dress. “We’ve already talked about this one-on-one, but… I think Adrien could maybe think a bit more before doing things. Or, at least, he should tell me when he makes major decisions like adopting kids.”

Dick’s smile dropped instantly. “Are you really complaining about not being told things? You guys tell me nothing! I have to figure everything out myself!”

Everyone startled a little at the sudden change of heart and gave each other wary glances before finding their way back to Dick.

The man in question had pushed himself to his feet (Adrien whined a little bit about losing the person to lean against) and started pacing. “You even ask Barbara things before me! It’s like you think I’m stupid!”

“Sweetie --.”

“Dont!” Dick sighed and came to a stop. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “It’s fine, it’s just… don’t you trust me?”

Marinette and Adrien looked at each other before nodding.

“Of course we do,” he said gently. “We’ll talk more about this at home, okay? When we’re not in the present company?” He looked at Tim and Jason, but he meant Dr. Quinzel. That was a hard subject to tiptoe around.

Dick took a seat on the armrest, likely so he could get up again without disturbing anyone.

Dr. Quinzel nodded. She looked at Adrien, and he fought the urge to try and hide behind Jason. She looked way too smart for his liking, it felt like she knew just by looking at him exactly what was wrong with him...

“I…” He struggled to find the words in French, let alone in English. “... think I try and get a lot of people in the house so I never have to be alone for long. I used to be alone all the time. I can’t do that again.”

Dr. Quinzel nodded thoughtfully. “It seems that all of you feel excluded or lonely in some way. Thankfully, that means all of you are the solution to each other’s problems. But, also, I suggest branching out some. Family is good, but so are friends. Everyone understand?”

They all gave each other wary looks, but they smiled all the same.

“Great, we can have a session again in a month or two to check your progress. That’ll be $7000 --.”

~

Marinette met her husband’s eyes and they exchanged nervous looks before walking into their room. As expected, Jason was already there. He was ready for bed, it seemed, with his pajamas on and his book out.

They took seats on either side of him and each took a hand.

“Jay…” Began Adrien. “We don’t love you any less because you’re not the newest kid anymore.”

“I know…”

Marinette bit her lip and pressed a tiny kiss to his forehead. “We’re not lying. And you don’t have to, either, just tell us why you think that.”

Jason looked at both of them warily before sinking into his shirt. It didn’t work as much as it did when he was wearing a hoodie or turtleneck, but it still worked surprisingly well.

She looked at Adrien nervously and he took the lead again:

“The reason we tend to focus on the newest the most is because they usually have the freshest problems. When we first got you we focused on you more than Dick because you were still struggling with old habits you picked up while homeless, and he was mostly over what had happened with his original parents.”

Marinette nodded. “And when Tim came in we focused on him because he was dealing with realizing his parents weren’t great and adjusting to a family who loved him. Now we have Cass, who…  will definitely need some extra care…”

Jason sniffled a little and nodded his understanding. “I know you have to, I just… it feels like you don’t want me as much anymore...”

“No way!” Marinette said, squeezing his hand tighter. “We love you, sweetie, you’re just as much our kid as any of the others.”

Adrien smiled. “Exactly. You’re stuck with us, whether you want to be or not.”

Jason gave a wobbly laugh before slowly drawing them in for a hug.

“I love you, too, guys.”

They hugged him back.

“... and I’ll go easier on Tim.”

“Thank kwami, I didn’t want to ruin the moment by bringing it up, but… yeah, be nicer to Tim, please,” said Adrien half jokingly.

Marinette grinned. “Maybe give him a nicer nickname, at least?”

“How about Timbers?”

“Uh…”

“Timberly?”

She clicked her tongue. “How about just Timmy? Or Tim?”

“No, no, I think I’m on to something.”

~

Adrien stared in disbelief.

“You… you did what?”

Dick fiddled with a Rubix cube. Adrien wasn’t sure if that was just to help stay concentrated on the conversation or so he could more easily avoid eye contact.

“I joined the mob two years ago because I wanted to be more in the loop…”

Adrien and Marinette exchanged exhausted looks.

“Don’t be mad! I’ve been rising in the ranks for years now, eventually I’ll be close enough to Agoura to help you guys!”

Marinette sighed lightly and shook her head. “Sweetie, we aren’t mad.”

Adrien raised his eyebrows. “Yes we are.”

“You’re right. We’re mad. But we’re going to let this one slide.”

“No, we aren’t.”

“I can’t read minds!” She said, then she shook her head again. “Look, we just want you to be safe.”

Adrien nodded. “The reason we don’t tell you much isn’t because we don’t trust you, it’s because we don’t like involving you guys in dangerous things when we can avoid it.”

“But Barbara --!”

“We asked her about her opinion on one thing. She actually gave the same answer as you, and we turned her down, too. We’re sorry that you felt like we didn’t trust you, though, that wasn’t ever our intent.”

“And, besides,” added Marinette. “You have a tendency to snoop. We always figured you’d learn everything on your own.”

They took a seat on either side of Dick on the couch and wrapped him in a hug.

Dick beamed as he hugged back.

“... you’re still in trouble, though. That was stupid and dangerous and neither you nor your siblings can never do that again,” said Adrien.

Dick started whining.

~

Marinette bit her lip anxiously as she looked at her phone. All it would take was one click to call, but…

Adrien sighed beside her and reached over. He took the phone and pressed to call, then tossed it back at her.

She panicked, juggling the phone in her hands as it dialled. Nononononononono don’t pick up don’t pick up --

“Hello?” Said Nygma.

Fuck!

She looked at her husband anxiously.

“This or the Justice League,” mouthed Adrien.

She squeaked and brought the phone to her ear. “Nygma! Hi!”

“... Hello?”

“Hey! I’m a bit bored, so… I was just wondering if, um, you want to do something as…” she wheezed. “... as um… as…”

“I don’t really have anything prepared right now, I’m still waiting on that shipment of penguins...” The Riddler seemed confused, which was a first.

Was she a little concerned about whatever Riddler was doing with penguins? Sure. Then again, this is Riddler she was talking about. What was he going to do? Steal one of her ninja kids and then tell her exactly where they were? Whatever.

“No no! Like um…”

“Friends?”

“Yes! That!”

Adrien rested his head in his hands with a deep sigh. She flipped him off despite knowing he couldn't see it.

“I guess my schedule is free until the penguins come in... Sure! Want to go try an escape room?”

“No, I do an escape room every time I see you. I’m making you a new outfit.”

Adrien and Riddler both groaned.

She smiled.

~

He hesitated, messing with the strap of the bag over his shoulder.

“The city might need me --.”

“The city will be fine for a week,” said Marinette.

“The kids might need me --,” he tried, only to get silenced by a kiss.

She pulled back a little bit later. “It’s one week. Besides, we’re all doing what Dr. Quinzel said, and you’ve stalled long enough.”

He sighed. “For good reason! It’s a week alone! I’m going to go insane.”

“Chaton, we’re murderers. I think we crossed over that line a while ago.”

He cracked a grin, weak as it was, and pressed another kiss to her lips. “Are you sure --?”

“Yes! Oh my kwami! Now go!” She gave him a playful shove.

He raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest. “It almost feels like you’re trying to get rid of me.”

“And it almost feels like you’re stalling.”

She waved down a taxi for him and he couldn’t help but cringe as they took the bags from him. It made it feel much more real…

“I love you, Chaton, I’ll see you in a week.”

“I love you, too, M’lady.”

He waved at the kids long after they had disappeared over the horizon and he sighed as he sunk back in his seat. He knew it was for the best, he needed to learn how to function as a person on his own, but…

It was only a week. Only a week.

Besides…

He looked down at the coordinates of the last known location of David Cain (it was amazing what Tim, Barbrara, and Marinette could do when angry enough).

He wasn’t going to be bored, at least.

~

She turned away from the cake she’d been decorating and nearly screamed when her eyes landed on Cass. She hadn’t even noticed her walk in.

Marinette forced herself to relax.

She glanced over the tiny girl in front of her and bit her lip. She was wearing a mix of different shades of black which…

She suppressed a shudder. The outfit was okay, if she was being honest, but it definitely needed a splash of color.

“Right, that’s it, we’re finding you some new clothes.”

Cass looked at her blankly.

Right. She didn’t speak language. Marinette pursed her lips as she tried to think of some sort of movement that would convey what was going on, then settled for reaching out a hand for Cass.

She couldn’t help the smile that broke across her face when the girl took her hand. She trusted her! Score!

She hesitated for a minute before yelling: “SWEETIE! I mean… JASON! COME ON WE’RE GOING SHOPPING YOUR CLOTHES ARE GETTING SMALL FOR YOU!”

There was a few seconds’ pause before Jason poked his head in. He glanced at the two of them and frowned, sinking a little bit into his hoodie. “You noticed?”

“I… don’t even know how to respond to that. I’m a designer, of course I noticed. If you want to keep going for the grunge look that’s fine but you need to up your size.”

Jason nodded.

She rested her arm around his shoulders (something that was very hard for her to do now that he was both taller and wider than she was) and pulled the two kids out to the mall.

Jason was getting used to buying things for himself. He still resisted a little bit when people spent money on him or asked what he wanted, but he was making progress.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek and handed him a credit card. “Buy what you want. Remember the PIN?”

“Mhmm…” said Jason. He sent a wave over his shoulder as he made his way over to the men’s section.

She hummed lightly as she walked through the girl’s section to look for things for Cass. The girl was short and skinny for her age -- she was determined not to think about it for too long -- and she could easily fit in kid’s clothes…

But no kid of Marinette’s would have a shirt with the words ‘Girl Power!’ or ‘I love tacos!’ on it.

She helped pick out different shades of black shirts and jeans for the girl, mulling over the different colors she should give her. Yellow and red matched her skin tone but she doubted the kid wanted anything bright…

Marinette settled for giving Cass a blue scarf and some gold accessories.

She smiled and offered them to Cass, only to pale when the girl burst into tears. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck --

Cass hugged Marinette around the middle and buried her face in her chest and Marinette was just very confused.

Jason came back with two bags of new clothes and he blinked a few times as he took in the new situation.

“What the fuck happened?”

“I don’t know!” She hissed back, waving her hands vaguely. “She’s crying and I can’t even ask what’s wrong!”

“We need to teach her a language,” mumbled Jason.

“No shit, Sherlock!”

“Fuck off, Watson!”

She was getting judgemental looks from fellow shoppers now. Great. Amazing, even. She rested an arm around Cass and then used the other hand to flip them off. How dare they judge how she parented her kid she just met.

She waited until Cass was done to pull away and lean down to check her face. Even if she couldn’t really speak, her expression should be a good gauge of what was wrong --.

Cass gently took the items from Marinette and flashed her a blinding smile.

Damn it. Now Marinette was going to cry. This kid was so cute.

She leaned over and gently pressed a kiss to Cass’s forehead.

HER kid was so cute, she reminded herself as she led her along to .

She helped her wrap the scarf around her neck. Was it kind of hot out? Yes. Was Cass super cute with her mouth hidden behind the fabric? Also yes.

She glanced at Jason, who was also smiling a little bit despite not having all the attention.

His smile dropped at her next words, though:

“I know you still have my card. Hand it over.”

“Fuck.”

~

It turns out ASL is hard.

It also turns out that teaching ASL, while you’re still learning it yourself, to a person who doesn’t even comprehend language is even harder.

Weird how that works out.

They started with simpler things. Everyday objects, basic emotions, the first letters of their names so she could say who she was talking about. It was a slow process, especially because they often would take two days per lesson because of everyone’s conflicting schedules.

But it was a process.

And he thought the family was doing pretty well, too. It probably helped that Cass was, at least so far, the nicest person in the house and none of them wanted her to be sad or lonely.

Look at that. They were working on making her not feel excluded. Progress! Dr. Quinzel would be proud.

~

Marinette paused her walk to the kitchen when she saw blonde hair. Adrien had blond hair, but he was still out on patrols with Dick so…

She turned and looked at the person on the couch with Tim. “Please, kwami, tell me he didn’t get another one when we just started making progress.”

Tim barely even looked up from his computer. “No, just my friend, Steph. She’s here because she thinks I’m sad my parents died.”

“Oh, oka --.” Marinette took a step back. “Hold up, what?”

“Yeah, they were killed by this guy in Haiti. I was sad about it for a while but then I was like ‘wait a minute! I can just kill him back!’ Anyways, it’s all good now.”

Steph didn’t seem all that perturbed about the murder thing, so she brushed past worrying about their identities or, y’know, her kid getting prosecuted...

Marinette pulled out her phone. “Yeah, Dr. Quinzel? I��m going to need to schedule another appointment…”

Tim frowned. “I’m fine, Mari.”

“Oh! Yeah! This isn’t for you… but, Steph, he doesn’t have anything going on Friday night, right?”

“I’ll make sure he’s free.”

She nodded. “Thanks, sweetie. Want anything to eat?”

“Guys! I’m fine! I got my revenge! I feel great!”

“Of course, you do, Timmy. And… waffles?”

She continued her walk to the kitchen to finish up scheduling and make Steph waffles.

~

Listen, at this point Cass having a miraculous was a given.

He might as well make sure it was a good one that would come in useful. And, it kind of matched her fighting style of predicting people’s moves to have one that allowed her to go five minutes into the past. She’d be even better at predicting people’s movements if she’d seen them before!

Besides, she liked the color blue. Perfect fit.

Marinette had agreed to train her, but Adrien was the one to take her out on patrols with him.

It was good to have people with different fight styles together, it made solving problems easier. Adrien paired with Dick and Cass, Marinette tended to pair with Jason, and Tim would tag in on either side since he had no real consistent fight style (he liked to change based on his opponent).

Besides, with group patrols they got to spend more time with their kids! They were nothing if not efficient people.

He and Cass sat on the rooftop across from the building Agoura had asked to meet Dick in. There was a low chance it was going to get violent, there should be no way that he’d know anything was off (Marinette and Dick had been publicly fighting for the past year to make it seem like they were on opposite sides), but it was better safe than sorry.

He watched Dick wave to Agoura and head off. Adrien and Cass watched carefully for any sign that they were suspicious, that they were going to do something underhanded, but Agoura just turned and started heading off into the night.

When his oldest son came up to sit with them, he had a thought. He glanced at Cass and made a swiping motion on his wrist.

She nodded her understanding.

They waited for Dick to transform before following Agoura and his goons. Five people were with him, but that wasn’t actually that bad by Agoura standards, so...

“Y’know, if he gets suspicious of me because of this, I’m never going to forgive you,” said Dick.

He shrugged absently, then broke into a wide grin when Agoura turned down an alley. “Living hotel to hotel wasn’t that bad back in the day.”

“Hm. I disagree, but…” The three of them exchanged grins as Cass activated her power. “Let’s do this.”

Dick brought his flute to his lips and played a high-pitched note that made Agoura and his goons stop in their tracks. Duplicates of each vigilante slowly spread out over the rooftops, as well as a replica of Dick.

The vigilantes and their fakes dropped down to surround the group and Cass suddenly reached out and jerked Adrien’s hand. He almost complained but then a bullet soared past where his head had just been and he went pale.

He squeezed her hand once as thanks and then pulled away so he could activate his Cataclysm.

Doubles went after the goons while Cass went to work disarming people. It was kind of creepy how she disappeared into the shadows without any help from Dick, but no one said anything because it was useful. She would pop out of shadows and break arms and legs to put goons out of commission.

Dick was giving himself an alibi. The fake lawyer ran into the action, only to get taken out by a fake Cass.

Agoura was making a run for it. Too bad, really, that he couldn’t exactly see anything that was going on. The world in front of Agoura was a mess of dumpsters and trash bags that he was struggling to run around. Adrien, who knew for a fact that everything was either fake or light enough to brush away with his staff, followed after him at a calm pace.

He grabbed Agoura by the back of his tailored suit and smiled at him.

“Agoura! Buddy! Where are you going? I just want to chat!”

“Nice one!” Yelled Dick from somewhere in the chaos.

“Thanks, Robin!”

He tipped his head to the side and regarded the man in his grip. It was clear he didn’t really know that much self-defense, but he must have some kind of weapon hidden on him…

Cass seemingly materialized out of the wall nearby and threw herself at Agoura, a blur of blue and black, and the man was nearly knocked out of Adrien’s grip by the force. Then she pulled away with a gun and a few knives.

Adrien raised his eyebrows a little bit before sending her a smile. Yeah. It was definitely a good thing that he’d given her that specific miraculous...

He turned his attention back on the mobster, who was beginning to look a little pale.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m not here to kill you. You deserve way worse,” he said brightly.

He pressed his hand to the man’s wrist. He closed his eyes and forced himself to concentrate on just dissolving the wrist. It was kind of hard to do with the mobster screaming his head off. Kwami, you’d think he’d be quiet so Adrien wouldn’t dissolve him into nothing but apparently not…

The hand popped off and he let go instantly. He looked down and winced at the black webbing its way under the glove.

He glanced at the mobster nearby, who was still screaming, and rolled his eyes. He punched him as hard as he could and smiled when he fell to the ground in a heap by the hand. Good, now that that was dealt with...

He scrunched up his nose a little bit as he slowly peeled the glove off of the hand and then his face split into a wide smile. Thank kwami, he hadn’t ruined the prints.

He turned to his kids and found them waiting for him amidst a pile of bodies. He didn’t know if the henchmen were alive or not, but when he saw the tiny scrape on Cass’s cheek he decided he didn’t care.

He waved the hand at them.

“We got him!”

~

Listen, Marinette had considered staying commissioner…

For approximately two seconds.

The vigilantes had made their point in getting Agoura arrested (they gave him about four days before he ‘mysteriously committed suicide’ in jail thanks to either underpaid henchmen or old victims). They were done. It had been way too hard to even think about doing it consistently. No, murder was definitely the way to go.

She glanced over at Nygma. “Thanks for helping me pack up.”

“Well, I figured it would be nice to visit again.”

She nodded slowly and looked around her old office. Tomorrow there would be someone else in that chair, someone likely far more corrupt…

“Got a knife on you?”

“Obviously, but why?”

She shrugged and took it from his outstretched hand. She knelt down by the chair and sawed on one of the legs until she had taken off a tiny piece of it. She pushed on the chair and giggled a little when it wobbled. Yes. Perfect. That would be so annoying.

She tossed the piece of chair leg in the air and then caught it, sending Nygma a wink. “The budget here is terrible, it’ll take at least a few months to get a new chair.”

Nygma rolled his eyes and took his knife back from her. “Hm. And they say I’m the evil one.”

They each grabbed a box. His was full of personal items, hers was full of files on every person currently in the GCPD and every mobster and goon she could think of the name of.

“You owe me one escape room.”

She groaned as they slipped out into the halls. “Why? Wasn’t it enough to spit on the floor?”

“Nope! Spitting on the floor was payment for me showing up, you’re making me do manual labor so I get one hour of escape rooms with you.”

“Don’t you know every solution already?”

“A new one opened up across town!”

She clicked her tongue irritably but shrugged. “Fine. But only because I owe you, not because we’re friends.”

He rolled his eyes and then looked down at the box he was carrying. “Wow, it sure would suck if all these pictures of your kids just… fell.”

Her eyes widened. “You ARE the evil one!”

He raised his eyebrows.

“And… you’re also my friend.” She made a retching noise. “Kwami, I’m going to die.”

“What?! No! Only one of my traps is allowed to kill you!”

“Too late! I’m dying. I’ll never recover…”

“Nooooo…!”

~

He raised an eyebrow at the girl on his couch. He was pretty sure she was Tim’s friend but… she was definitely around a lot…

Whatever, he might as well at this point.

“Hey, how many parents you got?”

Steph didn’t even glance up. “Zero, thanks to you.”

He went still. Wait, was she saying this in the ‘my parent(s) was evil and you killed them’ way or the ‘they were civilians and they got caught in the crossfire and I blame you’ way?

“Um… did you like them?”

“No, he was a dick.”

He allowed himself to breathe. Cool. Great. That would have made everything difficult…

“Want to be adopted?”

Steph laughed a little and shrugged. “Do I get to be a vigilante, too?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Then... yeah, whatever.”

~~~

Taglist

@i-am-ironic @nathleigh @mialuvscats @golden-promises @sassakitty @deathwishy @toodaloo-kangaroo @ladythugs @moonlightstar64 @dahjokester @jjmjjktth

[shyrose57]

Brothers anon, im gonna start combing the two separate submissions again cause its getting too short to have them separate I think?

1: His possession messed with memories Ranbob had before, so memories of school friends or playing with Ran were distant to erased. Though after Dreams possession it was also harder to make and keep memories. But thankfully as Ranbob was recovering from Dream and got futher away making memories came eaiser to him, though he'll never get back the memories he lost. 

3: Oh he would very quickly grow to regret his decision, but it would be funny. And Benjamin would later admit that while it was annoying and stressful, it was also fun and he was very happy to have his two families meet and generally get along. 

8: Everyone is just in shocked silence before Cletus just goes "YEAHHHHHHHHHH!" Oddly happy that Ranboo committed so much arson. Oh definitely, after all the outcasts of society where put there. Of course people would make such negative rumors about Mizu and treat the people as the scum of the earth. Though this also means, people don't know what happened in Mizu, and anyone who knows, view it in a more happy and a "Their finally gone" type of way, then viewing it as the tragedy it was. 

Spoons is a card game technically. A group of people sit in a group and everyone gets 4 cards, and you keep discarding at least 1 card of yours to the person on your left, who then does the same to their person on their left, the last person in the group puts a card into a discard pile. The goal is to get 4 of the same cards, and once someone gets 4 of the same cards, that person goes and grabs a spoon in a pile in front of them (let's say there's 5 players, theres only going to be 4 spoons cause there's always a spoon less than the people playing), once they grab one anyone can grab a spoon. And the person who doesn't get a spoon gets a S added to them, once Spoons is spelled the person gets out of the game, and a spoon gets removed to continue the game. Basically for flowers its played the exact same way but with flowers in the middle expect for spoons.

11: I just imagine Dream sulking in a corner as you yell at him and him going like "well I didn't know…" as he kicks a stone. And he wasnt sure what it was, but quickly jumped on the idea that maybe it was the fact that Ran was still alive somewhere, and that that's causing Ranbob to willingly let himself become weak and defy him. Causing Dream to become angrier at Ran and punish Ranbob harder. 

----

3: During the brothers fight in the storm, and after everyone runs off to find Ranbob, Ran is left alone. And he decides to just wander off into the storm, not protecting himself from the rain so he does get burnt. The whole time he's lost deep in thought and isn't really paying attention. He continues to wander for a whole day unfollowed (because after the Gladiators and Fishermen came back to the cave after finding Ranbob they are in no rush to find Ran and decide to look for him after the storm passes, which takes a full day) and at some point Raq finds him wandering. Which Raq then uses Rans distraction to his advantage and attacks him. At first only really the gladiators where concerned when they found Ran gone. But once they found him blinded and terrified everyone felt awful and a looming sense of guilt. And everyone continued to feel that way, even after they got the antidote and Ran started to see again.

4: They would just leave Ranbob alone and check in on him every now and again. But generally let him deal with it himself. They'd feel guilty leaving him alone, but they also know that they can't really do anything for him as their not prepared or briefed on how to help him in this situation. 

10: Oh definitely, even with Ran blinded they would've been kicked out immediately for fighting, without even a second glance. Dont forget, Ran still cares for his brother. And maybe, losing his sight made him face the side of him that wanted to become family again with Ranbob, maybe it brought enough to light that he just can't ignore it anymore. Mostly only negative potions can be permanent, like posion, blinding, wither, and nausea (I know the last like 3/2 are effects but they've also found a way to make effects into potions.). You already know what a antidote for blindness would be. A antidote for wither would be, a ghast tear (actually a basic ingredient for almost every antidote), blaze powder, and glistening melon to make a overpowered healing potion. Antidote for posion would be ghast tear, swiftness (so it acts fast to get rid of the posion), and the 3rd ingredient depends on what kind of posion it  was (posion that has a side effect of constricting or filling the lungs with water? Pufferfish and Turtle shell for last ingredients. Posion that has weakness? Blaze powder, and glistening melon) And antidote for nausea would be ghast tear, and potion of slowness to allow the person to slowly feel better, so their nausea doesn't hit them all at once before disappearing, which can cause them to throw up or have side effects. 

13: Thats exactly what they did. 

14: Jackie will 100% attempt to fight God and no one can stop him. :) (to be honest im not sure yet, I know I want to do more with Raq and have the idea that maybe he could be the person that finds Dream and gets him out of Mizu, but that's pretty often used in stories and I want to try to think of something more unique. Maybe I'll have it so Raq actually manages to capture the brothers or at least one of them and uses them as blackmail?)

15: When Ranbob was a child and Ran was just a baby Ranbob would often take Ran out of his crib and take him to go watch the fish swim by. When Ran was old enough he'd follow Ranbob everywhere, even a few times he managed to sneak into Ranbobs class room and almost wasn't caught. Ran got extremely clingy one day and managed to gather his haunting all up into his arms and carried them around, even though he was obviously struggling. And Ranbob used to complain about his teachers and idiotic classmates whenever he got home, which is funny when you consider Ran was very impressiable at the time and Ran started mimicking Ranbob, leading to him cursing, much to Ranbobs dismay. 

And im curious, do you have any questions that I havent answered? Or do you have any ideas for anything? I'd love to hear whatever you have to say about anything honestly!

Course! I dont have much lore wise other than they go to Kelalen and when they hear Dream is still around they decide to stay back to help fight him. But the idea I have is that Karl is just kinda hanging with everyone I listed, talking about allies or treaties when his time traveling clock/watch starts to go off, and he panics, but sadly in his haste to stop it he makes it worse and it grabs everyone, where they end up in the future. After hours of confusion and explaining they calm down. When 2 days later they find the Gladiator and Fishermen group, at first Karl is strongly against going to then for help, but everyone basically ignores him and go to ask for help. Hours of explanation and proof giving later the GF (Gladiator and Fishermen, got tired of writing it out) group sadly tells them that they cant really help. Until Ran (who was previously gone searching the surrounding area and making sure it was safe) appears high up on a tree (cause I just can't get the image of Ran on a tree and looking comfortable and confident as hell out of my head), and says that maybe Kelalen can help, if not going to Foolish may be a good alternative. Isaac, and Grievous are extremely against going back (at this time a 2 months have past since they left Kelalen)n saying it could be dangerous but Ran just aboustely shoots them down, along with Watson and Jackie agreeing with Ran, and Karls group agreeing to it. They head off to Kelalen. And Jackie is extremely excited at the potential of going to see Foolish finally. And it'd probably be like a sub au where the brothers au is the main backbone for it but at a certain point it separates from the au and becomes its own.

1: Okay, ouch. Can you imagine if Ran brought one of those memories up, and just had Ranbob look confused, or horrified, depending on how quick he realizes what happened? How would Ran react to that realization, both before and after he forgives Ranbob?

3: If nothing else, everyone got some laughs from it-even Benjamin, once his friends were far, far away from his family and not able to teach them more chaos. 

8: Cletus, why are you so happy? Do you just enjoy knowing chaos existed back then? Are you an arsonist? What’s up with you? 

Also, wow. Not cool, other city people, that’s very mean.

Spoons sounds like it’s interesting, I might try it sometime. Did the group just have those cards on them? What other games did they have?

11: Good, put Dream back in the corner, I’m gonna be yelling more. Because, seriously dude? I know you probably exist solely out of spite, but c’mon. Admittedly, from a certain point of view, it could be considered amusing that your first thought was that Ranbob was making himself weaker out of defiance/spite but like. From a more responsible and mature viewpoint, that’s incredibly stupid, and I-just. Buddy, hate to tell you, but I’m pretty sure that’d just be a you thing. Besides you were in Ranbob’s head, didn’t he think Ran was dead? It doesn’t even make sense. Good lord, I’m half-tempted to get the broom and chase you around like you’re a particularly unruly barn cat. 

------

3: First of all, that sounds really scary for Ran. Second of all, are we getting an overprotective arc?

4: Kind of sad, but understandable, they’re dealing with the situation as best they can.

10: Even if the group was provoked by the townspeople? Potions sound really cool, wish I could make those in real life, tbh.

13: W-what do you mean ‘that’s exactly what they did’? Anon, is your friend, like, a legit gremlin? I’m spooked. 

14: Foolish takes one look at Jackie, wearing a smile that exactly matched Tubbo’s when he was about to cause chaos, and immediately nopes out of that. He knows that face, and he will not be getting tangled into a fight with a goblin child today, no sir. I’m sure Jackie tries regardless though. (Also, that sounds like that goes horribly, do we get an overprotective ender-sibling, for whoever gets captured or used as blackmail, if that’s what you do?)

15: I love all of these so much, oh my gosh. Baby Ran seeing the fishes and following his big brother around. Poor Ranbob’s face when his baby brother cursed one day, Ran trying to carry all of his haunting. I’m in tears, honestly. 

Umm...I can’t think of anything right now, to be honest. If I ever do have a question or idea though, I’ll through it on the Brothers AU tag for you to check out, I guess. 

Oh, this sounds really cool. The part about them just ignoring their local time traveler when they’ve just time traveled particularly amuses me, as does Jackie wanting to see Foolish-I feel like Foolish may be a little more than terrified to see both Tubbo and Jackie back, honestly. Why was Ran willing to help them so much? What did they do to offer proof? How did Ranbob react once they proved who they were? How does all the group get along? Are they Ranboo’s haunting, and if so, if Ranboo gets close with his descendants, does he merge his hauntings with theirs? How does the time group feel about the Brothers fighting, and Ranbob’s possession?

[strange-lace]

My first thing to do knowing hyperfixating on LEGO Monkie Kid is making a role swap AU because of course, though I was also inspired by @cassidyisnowdrawing ‘s Yellow Light Verse (that I really hope it doesn’t look like I’m copying you, I did my best to make them different from each other)!

So in this role swap, while everyone’s roles in the story are swapped (Mei’s the Monkie Kid, Red is her partner in crime, and MK serves DBK and PIF) their backstories haven’t changed, if that makes sense. Now while I keep their personalities similar to canon, they’re going to still have some differences due to their different circumstances.

Mei:

Mei would be a lot more insecure and eager to prove herself, both as Sun Wukong’s successor and her worth as a person since while I’m having backstories for the characters stay the same, I could see Mei and MK both being worse off self-esteem wise without having each other around growing up. 

She’d still just as bubbly, excitable, protective, and phone savvy as Canon!Mei, if not more so on the protective aspect. Tends to go absolutely apeshit the most when someone threatens Green, Pigsy, Tang, Sandy and eventually includes MK and her own mentor, Sun Wukong, under this umbrella.

Case in point: when she sees Sun Wukong and Macaque fight. Through sheer protective anger and hurt about being betrayed allows her to lift the staff and decimate Macaque.

Sun Wukong would get attached a lot quicker to his successor in this AU because Mei just has that energy which activates Parental Instincts he didn’t even know he had.

Does noodle deliveries for Pigsy but has also makes vlogs of what it’s like working at Pigsy’s Noodles. She says it’s to better advertise the shop, but really she just likes making memories that she can look back on and show others. Starts doing it while also being the Monkie Kid and training with Wukong.

Was genuinely scared/intimidated by Demon Kid upon first meeting him but was quick to find that while he’s got the dramatics of being a villain down, he fails at the aspect of actually partaking in villainous behavior. After that, they’re quick to transition from enemies to frenemies to just being friends.

Makes no effort to hide her wanting to be friends with Demon Kid and finds his quiet bewilderment at her friendship adorable but also kind of sad. 

A troublemaker despite her innocent face, which definitely makes Sun Wukong proud to see her causing chaos and get away with it. That, alongside her kind nature, are the reasons he chose her as his successor.

Creates tech for the team alongside Green, though their differing styles of inventing can cause complications or make the inventions backfire on them both, though she takes these more in stride compared to Green.

The undefeated queen in DDR and Monkey Mecha despite Green’s multiple attempts to dethrone her.

Mei: Hey, hey DBK look at me. DBK: [turns towards Mei] Mei: [ready to kick his ass] B I T C H!

A slight bit better at focus and following Wukong’s lessons compared to Canon!MK but still tends to get ahead of herself in wanting to learn flashier techniques before even getting the basics down.

Likes to wage psychological warfare on her enemies. By that I mean, she essentially likes pulling Bugs Bunny level antics to frustrate them to do stupid stuff in combat out of anger, allowing her to fuck them up with a smile on her face.

Green (AKA Red Son)

The most changed personality wise due to different circumstances in this AU, a lot more calm and composed to counteract Mei’s hyperactive demeanor and less prone to losing his temper. Though he’s still pretty uptight.

Is still the son of DBK and PIF but he had ran away some time after DBK had been imprisoned. Makes an effort to make sure he’s not recognized by anyone, dying his hair and wearing makeup. Still wears Canon!Red Son’s shades but they’re larger and he still dresses like a rich bitch because he has standards. He refuses to wear the color red for unknown reasons to Mei and the others, at least until they find out about his family.

Just as protective of Mei as she is of him, to the point he had some objections to her being chosen as Sun Wukong’s successor but eventually let it go once he saw how important it was to her. Begrudgingly chose to fight alongside her, thinking he might as well and avoid her getting herself killed. His way of showing he cares can appear condescending but Mei has known him long enough to know he really doesn’t see her incapable of taking care of herself.

Works alongside Mei to use their combined tech knowledge to combating the threat of DBK and his demon forces. However, his inventions can also have a tendency to backfire or not work as intended, much to his frustration.

Enjoys racing on his motorbike, participating in races across the city and often winning in 1st place. He is most definitely a cocky little bastard about his skill in racing, one the few things about himself that he puts a lot of pride in.

Had a complicated relationship with Demon Kid at first. At first, he resented the other for essentially being his parents attempt to “replace” him after he ran away and led himself to believe that he was much more appreciated by his parents for his control of his flames and magic power. However, that illusion is soon shattered once he sees how Demon Kid gets when they foil his plans since he’s familiar with that look of worry and resigned accepted that he’d have to go back to DBK and PIF with another failure on his back. Tries to show empathy after that without revealing his true identity, which only causes confusion for Mei and Demon Kid on how he’s so familiar with DBK, PIF, and demon culture as a whole.

The exhausted voice of reason among the team alongside Pigsy.

Often challenges Mei to video game championships which devolve to them play fighting once Mei inevitably beats him at everything.

Has his own façade of confidence but often fears not being strong enough to keep his found family safe but is too proud to admit until someone gets injured and he starts fearing for the worst.

Sun Wukong enjoys messing with him due to his uptight nature, especially at the Monkey King’s impishness.

Goes completely feral in combat once he gets the Dragon Sword. Even before that, he was willing to run over Demon Kid’s demon puppets with his bike to give Mei a hand.

Demon Kid (AKA MK)

A kid who’s a lot like Megamind: he lives for the dramatics and presentation of being a villain but fails at actually acting villainous when it comes down to it. Does his best to appear serious, intimidating, and someone not to mess with but that façade slips very often when it comes to things like being complimented or when someone mentions the Monkey King and he turns out to be a complete dork.

Not the son of DBK and PIF, but rather a low level demon that PIF had chose to be help her free DBK after Red Son had disappeared and she was left alone. Mainly because Demon Kid had no one else either and she saw potential with his strong magic, though it was rather out of control when they met. PIF had decided alongside DBK that they’d keep him around as an assistant/minion of sorts once he had helped her free DBK.

Since he doesn’t have Canon!Red Son’s prowess with technology, I considered instead that he’s skilled with magic and his own fire powers, using them a lot more in combat or during his schemes against Mei’s team. Still a major contributor to DBK’s army, but instead of the mechanical Bull Clones, perhaps Demon Kid instead supplies his king with sentient demon puppets given life through his magic. The armor can run the same, except with a magical angle instead of technology.

I have this idea that he’s actually able to pull out Sun Wukong’s staff on his own, much to his surprise. He’s quick to try and say it was due to a spell when PIF questions this. He’s left both amazed and terrified at the mere possibility of him being worthy to wield the staff of Sun Wukong himself.

His first meeting with Mei plays out similar to the show’s canon, though instead he intended on teleporting Mei away with a spell under the guise of “eliminating” her for DBK. Even while chasing her through the city, he was going to simply take the staff and scare her enough to never cross the Demon Bull King again. He tries to convince himself it’s to allow fear of DBK to be spread by leaving her alive but really, he just could never bring himself to kill or seriously harm someone.

Though like Canon!Red Son, he’s prone to losing his temper with others before immediately apologizing afterwards out of reflex. Also tends to teleport away from situations when he’s embarrassed himself, often saying he’s only allowing Mei and Green to win this time but next time will be different.

Spoiler alert: It rarely ever is.

DBK and PIF are often frustrated with Demon Kid because they know he has potential to bring Sun Wukong’s successor and her team to their knees with his powers and knowledge of magical spells but he fails to fulfill this because of his own inability to be cruel. They’re both like that episode of Spongebob where Plankton tries to teach him to be assertive/aggressive except they’re both Plankton and Demon Kid is Spongebob.

Quickly becomes attached to Mei and Green since they’re genuinely nice to him and while he insists that it’s because they’re his “personal archenemies”, he most definitely sees them as his friends and is constantly coming up with flashier schemes to impress/amuse them as well as get feedback from them. Was actually really lonely before meeting them, having to use his demon puppets for company. His attachment to Mei and Green can quickly evolve to possessiveness when he thinks someone is trying to take them away, whether they be other enemies that decide to fight them or a friend who is simply spending noticeable amount of time with them.

In the case of someone else trying to kill them, Demon Kid would be quick to shut that down and make that person immediately regret it since, in his words, he’s the only one allowed to destroy the two. This is one of the few situations where he gets completely serious and doesn’t bother with the theatrics.

Does his best to make himself look scary such as shoes to make him appear taller, jagged face paint, and perhaps sharp eyeliner to imitate PIF since he sees everyone fears her.

[lavenderbau]

The Table of Celebrations

summary: after Strauss died it became a morbid tradition to all sit and share the good times when someone on the team dies. alex left the team to go teach with james and they were able to convince emily to come back. this is the story of them carrying out their tradition.

tw: death (a lot of it), substance abuse, car crashes, cancer, guns

words: 1.5k

Aaron didn’t see it coming like this. He thought during his times in the field, or during Foyet, hell even driving to work would be his end. He never thought it would come to him when he’s 63 in a bank. He should’ve known they were robbers the minute they stepped into the building, he used to be a profiler for Christ’s sake. But he didn’t. And he stands here now, seeing the bullet fly towards his chest, and all he could think about was that damn table. Or more importantly how nobody would be sitting there when he died. 

It started with Strauss. After the funeral they all could see Dave ready to dive head first into the grief, and so it was Aaron’s idea to get drinks and tell stories about her. They all sat there laughing so they wouldn’t be crying, because pain in the ass or not Erin didn’t deserve that. Aaron listened as Penelope told them about the time she answered the phone thinking it was Derek, and couldn’t help but laugh. That was a fond memory of his. He saw how Dave needed this and how helpful this was to him and it made his heart swell. Little did he know it would become a tradition. 

Dave, fittingly enough was next. They all knew that’s how it should be. He was the oldest of them all so it was only the circle of life his seat was the first one empty. Alex had left right after Strauss’ death to teach at Harvard with James, and Aaron somehow managed to convince Emilly to come home. They all sat at the table, tears staining their cheeks. Dave was a father figure to both Aaron and Emily and a grandfather for the rest of them. Penelope told them about how she and Kevin were walked in by Rossi and all that followed. Aaron remembered Dave telling him about that, saying he would have never done that for a woman and maybe he should have; Derek told them about how he used to tease Rossi about the gray in his hair and Emily told them about how he knew the perfect cure to any hangover but refused to teach her. Aaron saw the way she folded into herself when she realized he would never get the chance to teach her. Aaron pulled her in close when they left telling her that she didn’t need to worry, because Dave would be with Carolynn and his son.

He would’ve thought it would be him next. Hell, it should’ve been him. It should never have been her. But it was. He was the one to notice the lump on her breast and she kept insisting she was fine. They had been, whatever they had been since around the time she came back from London, after Beth had left him. It started out just as sleeping together but it was slowly turning into something more. She was in his office when she passed out, pulse weak. He was panicking and didn’t know what to do. This was Emily, his Emily. He was there when she got the diagnosis. Breast Cancer, stage four. They said at this point there was little they could do, she should just go home and be as comfortable as she could, saying the disease would take her soon. Emily wept into his shirt apologizing for not getting it checked, saying she didn’t want to leave him. He took a sabbatical to spend her last days together, trying to make it last. It didn’t as when Aaron woke up one morning and went to pull her in, her body felt too still and cold. He realized instead of calling her baby, he would be putting in a call to the morgue. He never did imagine he would be standing in front of her grave again, except this time knowing her body was actually in it. Her table was much more grim. They tried to tell funny stories, tried to distract from the pain, but unfortunately they couldn’t do that a second time. So instead they just said bottles up and drained their cups. Derek would come to tell him later what makes this worse than last time is the fact that there’s no one to blame, no bad guy to chase down. Little does he know that if Aaron maybe pushed a little bit harder she might have had a fighting chance.

Aaron never truly recovered from Emily’s death. So that’s why the next one hurt him so much, because two seats left the table that time. Derek and Penelope had gotten together shortly after Emily’s death, realizing the years of playful banter had much more depth than both of them ever assumed. He remembered how Derek stopped by his office to check in on him before he left for his and Penelope’s date night. They had a standing date night on Tuesdays that they didn’t have a case. The next thing he knows he’s getting a call in the middle of the night. He assumes it’s a case, but it’s from the hospital. Apparently he was Derek’s power of attorney and had to choose whether to pull him off of life support or not. He rushed to the bathroom throwing up the little of dinner he ate that night. How could this be happening? Was he really such a curse that everyone around him died? After dry heaving for five minutes he went to the hospital to find JJ. His heart sank when she said through her sobbing she got the same call for Penelope. It was a drunk driver who hit them head on. He called Spencer, because ironically their team was down to three. How have they lost more than they had? Of course they got new members, but they weren’t part of the family. Maybe that’s a good thing. He pretended not to hear Spencer and JJ’s tear filled goodbyes. He went to call Derek’s sisters when he overheard the doctors say Penelope was about six weeks pregnant. He couldn’t handle this. Penleople deserved the chance to be a mother. Derek deserved to be a father. They both deserved to just fucking be alive. How did Aaron get here? How did Aaron get everything they deserved? He was a father, he was alive, and he didn’t deserve that not over them he didn’t. Jayje found him on the floor sobbing against the wall. All she did was slide down next to him. Everything there was to say has already been said twice before. They sat at the table together in silence, not able to understand how a table of 7 could go that quickly to a table of 3.

Aaron had retired from the BAU early. He couldn’t handle anymore heartache. He spent his days with Jack, trying his best not to destroy him like he did to everyone else. Spencer always called him on Thursdays, becoming a crutch they both needed. He got the call on a Monday. Spencer was a blubbering mess, stammering about how JJ was stabbed in the field. He tried to put pressure on the wound, but she was bleeding too quickly. He made an off hand comment about how he knows how Derek felt when Doyle happened, oh how that seemed a lifetime ago. He said he couldn’t call Will. He couldn’t do it. Aaron told him he would take care of it. Aaron always took care of it. He went in person and told a great man he was a widow. God he would never forget the way Will collapsed against him. The way Micheal and Henry ran up asking what happened and Aaron had to tell them their mother died. He got too many flashbacks from when he had to tell his own son the same thing. Her service was beautiful, but Spencer couldn’t get through his speech so Aaron took over. He read the words off of the page, thinking too much about Haley and how he failed her just like he failed Jayje. He failed everybody. Spencer told him while sitting at that goddamn table that he was quitting and going to teach, but he’d keep in touch. It was just too hard to sit at that office and see all of the reminders of them. Aaron understood and wished him the best.

Aaron stopped by Spencer’s place three weeks later. He found him on the floor empty syringes surrounding his too still body. Aaron cursed himself. He should have seen this coming, he knew JJ was his rock, his older sister. He didn’t even see the signs. He laughed to himself when he realized that he was the only one left. He sat at that table alone. He drank his sorrows screaming to the heavens to take him, but they never did. He broke every one of those stupid chairs and that stupid stupid table. No one was ever going to sit there again. 

So as the bullet entered his chest, six familiar faces surrounded him. They were all sitting at that table, only his chair empty. He sat down and they welcomed him home. And it was the first time in too long where he actually felt like he was home.

[keiameli]

“Bouna Serata, Addio”

[Vincenzo Fanfiction of Vincenzo by Kei]

She never demand anything to him. She always understands him, respect him and considered his situation. Even though she wants him to stay by her side, she never said it to him because she knows what his mind wants and where his heart belong. It was never on Korea; it was never on her side. Even if they held a special place in each others’ heart, it was never enough for her to encourage him to stay and it was never enough to make him stay. 

When Vincenzo Cassano left, Hong Cha-young told herself that it was okay. He needs to leave and she already knows that he will soon leave because he doesn’t belong in Korea. An Italian mafia lawyer whose hands were stained with blood, a man who ended the lives of men he considered evil, a man who delivered his preys toward their demise has no place beside the people who were just genuinely good, who were just standing for themselves and fighting for their rights. Vincenzo Cassano was no saint and he will never be. And the place where he belongs is the place where he can freely show his true self, the dark and vicious man who never flinches when he’s shooting his enemies, straight to their heads.

What Hong Cha-young saw was not his full dark side. She just had a glimpse of his true colors but she accepted him without judging him and urging him to change into someone Vincenzo Cassano doesn’t want to.

And he was forever grateful to Hong Cha-young. As he walked through the darkness of life, he found his oasis, his light and his refuge. He feels safe with her embrace, it was like she was defending him from the monster—from the evil who wants to conquer him whole. She was his strength, the sole reason why he decided to fight against Babel. He will always come back to see her and to tell her how much he misses her. And he only got one chance to express his feelings to her every year. 

Every year, Hong Cha-young was always looking forward to the day when Korea celebrates its diplomatic relationship with Italy. It was the day when the birds decided to make a bridge in order for them to meet each other. It’s the day when she will finally see the man she’s longing for. Hong Cha-young doesn’t have any problem when it comes to waiting for him once a year. She knows that he will arrive because that’s what he had told her. She believes in him because he’s Vincenzo Cassano, the man her heart decided to fully trust. The day when they can finally meet was one of the happiest days in her life. It was a short moment that feels like forever because she’s with the man she wants to spend her forever—her lifetime with. Their meeting may not last for a day but it was enough, standing next to each other and drowning themselves with each others’ presence was enough. Looking at each other’s faces and noticing the changes; talking about their lives and sharing matters regarding them that happened in the whole one year they did not meet. 

Hong Cha-young was standing two meters away from the painting “The Lovers” by René Magritte. It was the first painting that grabbed her attention as soon as she entered the gallery. The painting shows an image of a man and a woman that are trying to kiss each other but they are both separated by grey hoods, lips never meet and the cloth was dry and suffocating. They can’t see each other and they can not even kiss. What caught her attention was the hoods that were separating the two lovers. Hong Cha-young depicts it as the two were in love with each other but they were clearly separated because of some circumstances or they love each other but they clearly don't know each other; both of them were hiding their true selves behind the grey hoods. She nodded her head as if she was agreeing to her thoughts. The painting has a lot of meaning behind it and it will depend upon the person who’s looking at it. She decided to move on to the next painting beside it. It was the painting “Liberty Leading the People” by Eugène Delacroix. Hong Cha-young can’t help but to smile when she remembered a certain event 5 years ago; it was the night when the Geumga tenants won over the group of people who were trying to destroy the Geumga Plaza. It was an historic night for them; it shows how courageous and brave they are. She closed her eyes, trying to reminisce about the exact event on that night.

But the image that came to her mind was a man, standing with pride in his expensive Booralro suit. 

‘Buona serata, mademoiselle.’

The italian greeting was whispered through her ears. The deep and soft voice was carved in her mind, it never left her since the day she met him. It’s been five years. Hong Cha-young was always waiting for his arrival. She did not even realize that five years had passed, the only thought in her mind was there’s someone who cares for her that lives on an island and someday, she will be able to live on his side; someday they will live the way they wanted to be.

As she awaits his arrival, she looks around and sees familiar faces she had encountered before. And as usual, it brought back many memories to her and that was the time when everything that happened were wrong and bad but it felt right because they were serving justice on their own; together with her mafia man, Vincenzo Cassano. 

She sighed and looked back at the first painting she had seen; everything went on in a blur and the night just ended. The visitors were keep on looking at her direction probably wondering why she just kept on standing on the exact place. She didn’t mind them but it made her uncomfortable. The stares were nothing what’s worst was the man he was waiting did not arrive like he had promised to her. Vincenzo Cassano did not arrive like what he did 1 year ago.

Hong Cha-young has no problem when it comes to waiting for someone. She’s willing to wait especially if the person promises her that he will come and see her. She’s willing to wait especially if she’s holding onto something; something that reassures her that everything will soon be alright.

She wanted to wait. But the feeling of giving up was gnawing at her slowly. She’s willing to wait but she was slowly getting tired without even noticing it. 

She waited. 

As she walked on the spacious hall wearing her white floral chiffon maxi dress with a dramatic puff sleeves pairing with silver three-inch stiletto heels, she saw familiar people who she encountered ten years ago when she was visiting the gallery. They became her colleagues as they noticed that every year she just kept on coming back and they decided to talk to her. And now, for the last time, she decided to visit the gallery she once used to go to whenever it’s time for the celebration of the diplomatic relationship between Korea and Italy.

She stopped in front of the painting “The Kiss” by Gustav Klimt. The painting shows lovers, wrapped up in each other, enfolded in their everlasting kiss. 

‘They looked in love just by looking at how they shared their kiss and embraced each other,’ she thought. 

“Eomeoni!” A boy, probably five years old, wearing blue long sleeves and black pants paired with black sneakers, ran towards Hong Cha-young. Her thoughts were interrupted when the boy called her. She looked at him as he stopped in front of her. The boy was smiling widely at her and she noticed the gold chocolate bar he was tightly holding. She bent down and reached for his head. She ruffled his hair.

“Look! Someone gave me a gold bar! A gold bar!” he exclaimed. 

“Who gave that to you?” Hong Cha-young asked. 

“A stranger I met in the bathroom!” Hong Cha-young forehead slightly creased. Although the gold bar brought memories of her past, she just thought that she should teach her son not to accept anything from someone he doesn’t know.

“Hm? Where’s your abeoji?” she asked.

“Sorry. We took so long to roam around the gallery.” Hong Cha-young stood up straight as soon as she heard the familiar voice. 

“Abeoji!” The boy raised his hands and as soon as the man arrived in front of them he crouched down and carried the boy. He stood up and grinned at Hong Cha-young. She crossed her arms over her chest.

“I told you not to let go of him,” she stated. 

“I apologize, my wife. He’s just slippery—Aw!” Hong Cha-young pinched his shoulder. The boy giggled when his father exclaimed in pain. 

“Let’s get out of here. Let’s eat somewhere, shall we?” Hong Cha-young asked. The man immediately nodded.

“I’m starving. Where do you want to eat, my boy?” he asked the little boy in his arms. “Anywhere?” the boy answered, unsure of what he just said. Hong Cha-young smiled while lovingly looking at her husband and son. She was so lucky to have them. His husband looked at him and he extended his free hand towards her. He winked at her.

“Let’s go?” Hong Cha-young didn’t hesitate and she immediately took his hand. He stole a kiss on her cheek which made Hong Cha-young's eyes widen in surprise.

“Yah!—”

“Come on!” They walked hand in hand beside each other; their smiles were wide and their eyes twinkling with happiness. 

On the far side of the gallery, a man in his forties was standing beside a huge pillar. He was talking someone in the phone while looking at the retreating figures of the people he was tailing earlier. As soon as they entered the gallery, he immediately do his mission, it was to observe the family of three from a distance. 

“How is she?” the man from the other line asked. His voice was deep, a hint of tiredness can be heard from it. 10 years ago, the underground society was put under a chaos. The Famiglias have only two choices; it was to fight or die. Their Famiglia was engaged into a battle where they had to keep their loved one's safe and themselves alive. 

“She’s okay. Her son was already five years old. I actually gave him a gold chocolate bar which he gratefully accepted. She’s.....” a long pause, “happy.”

He had no choice but to abandon the promise he told her. It was to protect her from the danger of the world he lives in. If his enemies knew that he has someone he loves and truly cares, they will surely target her because she was his weakness. And he’s afraid to lose the only person who was keeping him from the darkness; he was afraid to lose his only light. In order to keep her safe, he has to let him go.

It was painful but he was happy he did that, ten years ago.

Because she’s happy now, living the ordinary life he can’t give her. Because no matter how he tries, he can’t leave the life his foster father gave him and he can’t just bring her into it, without destroying her virtue. 

“Grazie, Luca,” he said and ended the call. The night was cold, he could feel the breeze coming from the sea. He held the wine glass and stared at the vast darkness outside his massive window. 

“Buona serata, mademoiselle,” he softly whispered in the air. 

[squishneedsahero]

Oh Yeah, I Remember Now

It’s Who I Am Part 4

Word Count: 2555

Warning: I didn’t go into much detail but there is mentions of abuse and other things which the reader went through during their time with HYDRA

How would The Falcon and The Winter Soldier have played out if you, the younger daughter of Howard Stark got involved? You had been kidnapped by HYDRA at a young age, your mind taken from you as they forced you to work towards creating new weapons for them and when HYDRA had fallen you had gotten free with your scattered memories for you to slowly piece together.

You'd had a relatively good childhood, sure your father was a dirtbag to both you and Tony but your mom was good. She tried to protect the both of you, Tony had done his best to protect you as well. But you'd always lived in their shadow. It was always, "oh you're Howard's daughter? I didn't know he had a daughter," or "aww what a cutie, you must help your mom take such god care of your father and brother." All of this made you sick. None of it was Tony's fault it was all misogyny and your father's sexism.

The next thing you remember is a science fair. It's third grade and you've made a tiny drone, which you can fly around and take pictures with. You were so excited to show everyone, to show your dad that you could be an engineer as well, but only your mother and Tony came. They tried to encourage you but you didn't say anything, it isn't until you get home and you're lying in bed that you cry. You're good at keeping your crying quiet, quiet enough that no one would know you had spent the night crying and when you got up in the morning the tears were gone.

Then you're at boarding school, somewhere they could teach you to be a proper 13 year old girl. One night sticks out above the rest, the dorms caught fire everyone was getting out. You tripped as you tried to get out of bed and then when you tried to get up a cold metal hand covered your mouth and someone picked you up, throwing you over their shoulder, you feel something prick your arm as you begin to kick and scream, and then things go dark.

You're in a small cell with grey walls and grey floors. You're 15 as you're sitting there, refusing to cooperate with HYDRA's current plan, the door slams open and in walks one of the nameless agents. They show you a newspaper, the headline announcing that your parents had died in a car crash, they then show you other photos, and tell you how they had had them killed by the Winter Soldier. From there they go into great detail on the fact that if you didn't begin cooperating they would bring your brother to be the next one they make you torture.

From there things get especially messy in your mind. Some days remembering your past and other days not. Some days you're the one doing the torturing and other days the one being tortured. HYDRA had forced you to commit many atrocities in their name, so many you couldn't begin to count. There were the times where you were the one who was in charge of resetting Bucky's mind, wiping it and preparing him for a mission. There were other times when you were difficult and they had the winter soldier beat you into submission.

There was one day, one day during which nearly all of HYDRA's agents disappeared and never came back. You were locked in your tiny cell, you don't know how long you were there on your own, hunger clawing at your stomach and dehydration quickly becoming an issue. You don't remember how but you got out and escaped.

It's who knows how many months later that you become aware of anything again. You're lying in some alleyway somewhere and have none of your memories. You find your way to a library, feeling safe there, from there you begin to figure out how exactly the world works and how you can survive.

It's another few years after that, having short term memory loss and being slow to pick up on anything. It is at this point where you've some how ended up in NYC and as you're walking down the street that you bump into Tony. You don't recognize him but he recognizes you. It happens quickly, he gets a DNA test to be sure but soon you're living with him and have some of your life together but still no memories. It's during this time that you meet a few other people, but thanks to Tony they keep the fact that you're still alive quiet, not wanting to overwhelm you with his life when you barely have yours together.

After that you're sitting in the Avenger's compound with Rhodey when something happens and people you haven't meet before show up. First it's just one guy named Bruce, then a group of people Steve, Natasha, Wanda, Vision and Sam. That was the first time you had met Sam, though you hadn't spoken to him. From there you all go to Wakanda, try to save Vision, apparently cross paths with Bucky, fail to save Vision, fight some aliens in one of Tony's suits, punch a giant purple dude in the face a few times then ultimately get turned to dust with a few billion other people on the planet.

Then you find yourself lying on the ground in the jungle of Wakanda with half of the people you'd been fighting Thanos with. Some sort of portals open up in front of all of you and you fight even more aliens. You pass by Tony at some point and give him a quick hug in the middle of all of it, despite not having memories you still knew you cared deeply for him and was one of the few people you felt safe when you were with. Then as soon as your world had come together, it falls apart again, Tony had sacrificed himself to save the rest of you.It is when you're at his funeral that things begin to set in for you, your brother is gone, you're once again alone in the world... except you weren't. Tony had a wife and a daughter, Pepper and Morgan, it didn't take much for them to take you in and act as though you had always been part of their family.

It's in the six months following that when you create your own suit, and somewhat get yourself together. At least you have it together enough that your memory of that time is pretty solid even if your mind felt scattered. It is after those six months of relative peace and calm that brings you to the present. Where you had met up with Sam and Bucky on accident and teamed up with them to figure out this problem.

There is a knock on the door you have your back too, and it shakes out of the state you are in. "Hey, y/n," it's Sam, "are you alright in there?"

"Uh- yeah- yeah- I'm fine." You stand up and quickly wipe the tears which had formed in your eyes before opening the door. "Hey," you can see the concern in Sam's eyes, "I'm fine, just needed a minute," you pause before changing the subject, "so what's the plan?"

"Sharon is going to be hosting some people here and will ask around to see if anyone knows where we can find Naegele," Sam explains, "so we can join the party and just have to blend in with the crowd."

"Sounds good," you look down at your dress that has some blood splattered on it then look back at Sam, "you think she has a different dress I can wear?"

"Probably, we can go ask her."

You let Sam lead the way back to the other room, where you give Zemo a death glare before asking Sharon, "hey, you have a dress I could borrow? I don't think blood will blend well."

"Sure," she goes over to a closet and gets out a dress which she hands to you, "here, put this on, I'm going to get headed down to begin letting the guests in."

You nod and take the dress, going to change quickly before coming back out, where you're greeted by Sam and Bucky telling you Zemo had gone with Sharon. "Can I help you?" you ask with more than a hint of sarcasm in your voice.

Bucky doesn't hesitate, "what happened?"

You raise an eyebrow at him and pause for a moment before say, "shit. Shit happened, and I... remembered." You shake your head a bit, "before you ask, no I don't want to talk about it. It's a lot, it's fucked up and it's a lot but like, I can get drunk so I'm going to go do that downstairs right now then drunk cry it out so I'm good to go tomorrow."

You admitting that you remembered has Bucky feeling uncomfortable because you were right it was fucked up and he had been involved in it.

"Y/n, getting drunk it's going to help," Sam says.

You sigh and look at Sam, "I know that but I'm going to do it anyways because at the moment I don't want to deal with it. Plus I don't think I've ever gotten drunk before so it won't take much to do so I'll be good to go in the morning."

"It's still a bad idea," Sam says but isn't going to argue further since you're obviously set on this plan.

You go through with your plan, and you were right about it not taking much for you to get drunk, but its enough that you don't have to think about life for a few hours. Then in the morning you wake up hungover, but with enough time to mostly recover by the time it's time to go find Naegele. You get dressed in in your 'suit' of leggings and a shirt before heading out with the other four to find Naegele.

You go with them down to the docks, where they keep all the shipping containers. Sharon leads all of you right up to the one he is supposed to be in. You let the boys go in and you stay out with Sharon, mostly to make sure Naegele doesn't make a run for it but it ends up being pretty convenient for fighting some of the guys the power broker sent to stop all of you from getting to Naegele.

It is with ease that you take them down, discovering that the reason you hadn't been great at fighting before was because of HYDRA wiping your mind. They took the methods you picked up over time from your mind, making it nearly impossible to improve even if you instinctively knew what to do. There is a lull in the fighting, during which you and Sharon slip into the shipping container and go to the back and into the secret are to find the others.

The two of you barely make it into the room when a gunshot goes off, Zemo killing Naegele right there. You only have a chance to shout, "what the hell?!" Before the box around you explodes.

You tuck and roll, escaping the flames and second rocket fired at the shipping crates. You don't know if anyone else made it out but for now you just need to make sure all of you will survive past this point. Your suit had protected you well, and you were thankful since you'd learned the evening before that you weren't at all enhanced but just had an unusually high pain tolerance. It doesn't take you long to spot one of the people who were after you and you focus in on them, one thing you could control. You could control that they were kept busy fighting you and you could control where they were so the others could get out.

As you throw yourself at the man in front of you, you hear gunshots and you're thankful. That means the others made it out of that explosion. You don't want to kill anyone, you had come close when Zemo had activated whatever it was HYDRA had put in your head, but you'd done enough killing in your life. You just needed to incapacitate them, and you do. It's just a matter of hitting a few pressure points and he should stay down for a few hours at least.

From there you move onto the one other person you can see but you are beat to them by Sam. You jog up to him now that things had calmed down a little and see Sharon and Bucky, leaving Zemo as the only one unaccounted for. "Hey, did we get them all?"

"Seems like it," Sharon responds.

Sam looks at her, "come with us."

Sharon shakes her head, "just get me that pardon you promised."

Sam nods once then looks at Bucky, about to say something only to be interrupted by Zemo pulling up in a car. "Shall we?"

You get in the car without hesitating, taking the seat behind Zemo so you can keep an eye on him. Bucky claims the front seat and Sam gets in behind him, saying something about him not moving the seat up. Then you're off, leaving to get back on Zemo's plane and head to the location they had gotten from Naegele.

When all of you are on the plane there is a short conversation as you go over the plan. Then silence falls over all of you, not a nice silence but an awkward silence and you can feel their eyes on you. You finally decide to break the silence and look at Bucky, "hey, I should apologize for all the shit HYDRA made me do to you, so... sorry," you frown and shrug a bit in an attempt to play it off like no big deal as it's always awkward to experience emotions with other people around.

Bucky just shrugs a bit, "it's alright, not exactly your fault. Sorry for kidnapping you."

You don't know why but you laugh. Maybe because it's so ridiculous but you shut up as quickly as you can and shake your head, "it's alright, not exactly your fault either."

"Having less of a memory problem I see," Zemo cuts in on the slight moment the two of you are having.

Your head snaps around to look at him, "you're on thin ice, so tread lightly, or I'll make you wish you'd died in that explosion back there."

Zemo laughs, "ah, there is the Stark attitude that HYDRA had so much trouble controlling." He presses his fingertips together and relaxes in his seat before continuing, "HYDRA was only able to get Lemonade to stick in your mind. It was in case you needed to protect one of the agents from a monster you had created. They had to manually mess with your memory thanks to you being so stubborn, as they couldn't seem to break you."

You can't help but feel a little nauseous as he speaks but you know he's telling the truth. "Yeah, and you better not use it again though I'm pretty sure I broke it last night." Then you look at Sam, "in the case that I didn't break the programming I have weak knees if you hit them from behind and a peanut allergy, knock me out if needed I shouldn't die."

You don't get a response to that but you felt better knowing they could easily stop you if Zemo pulled anything. But that was it and with that you were able relax for the rest of the flight.

[jaeminscoffee]

Misunderstood | T. Lee

Pairings- Ten Lee x Reader

Genre- Angst, slight fluff,

Warning(s)- Character death.

Word count- 1.88k

Type- requestedddd

It was a whole cat and mouse game at the beginning. 

You know how it's always portrayed that all cats and mice despise each other? Well maybe it's because the friend and foe never really go together since they indulge in a much predator and prey relationship. That's how you and Ten's blooming relation started.

Just like any other fable, or the famous cartoon, might as well be a life lesson, Tom and Jerry; Ten and you never got along. You weren't meant to get along. After all, which super agency's top sniper would befriend a wild criminal? Apparently you did. You'd always find yourself letting Ten off the hook each time in the last minute. The lad was fun to have around. And just like any other untold truth of the behinds of a story, the mice in your story was also only just a misunderstood soul. Ten was more than what he portrayed himself to be. 

Chasing Ten and catching him, the first glimpse was your mission. Bringing him back to the headquarters dead or alive was your mission. To turn a deaf ear to anything and everything he'd let out was your mission. To heartlessly end him if he pulled a smart stunt was your mission. But having him voice out his thought processes and you gladly listening to the entirety of it was most definitely not your mission. 

You'd been known as the top all rounder sniper of your agency, one for your amazing skills, two for your ability to make ends meet, and three for being a kind soul yet thick skulled if the situation called for it. Your boss, the head, of course ended up assigning a very confusing mission to you as, for the matter of fact, were a very trusted pawns of his. It was intriguing yet confusing because you weren't given much insights on why you're asked to serve summons on him. 

Ten on the other hand was to this point, tired of running. Hurt. Wounded by having to bear the weights of his family when all he'd wanted was to lead a normal life of his own. To not wake up in cold sweat, fearing for whether his days would shorten the next second. To make it until arvo without anyone, or anything hot on his trail. To make his way back home from his work space; a small corner dance studio where he'd teach the one's who'd not be able to afford trying to learn at those fancy known dance studios who charged way more than what's required, without having someone tackle him to the floor. To sleep after supper without having to wake up every other minute, paranoid whether one of those people trailed him back home and somehow managed to sneak in. 

"He's still watching ,you know?" Ten rasped out loud enough for only the two of you to hear his voice which helped you step out of the cloud of guilt for what you were about to do. 

You, just as assigned, started immediately. Still confused, of course. The boy seemed little to not harmless at all. But nevertheless, you went about it. Watching the boy feed stray animals on the way, smile brightly at passerby's, buy a drink or two for the hungered on the pathway, keep the dangered ones accompany on a night walk, he seemed like a moral, ideal member for the lacking society, nothing like the heartless murderer he'd been described to be. 

"I know, b..but i can't, Ten" you sigh out, shutting your lids tight to clear up your blurred vision. 

He seemed to be the only calm in the chaotic, messed up world you lived in. Now obviously, you did try catching him each time only to let him go, thinking of all those out in the streets and beyond waiting for their daily dose of hope in this dark realm. And to keep a close eye on the said predator, of course. 

Finding him crouched down by the alley turn towards his usual workplace, you found it a little heartbreaking to continue heartlessly end him. He seemed so.. vulnerable, broke, and nothing like the walking sunshine he'd been since the beginning of your mission and definitely nothing of that of a murderer. He seemed just like the misunderstood feline in all fables who are usually portrayed as the predator and heartless and only wanting to fulfill their needs type. But much matured and smart you'd finally, spiritually understand the personality of the character, hurt, scared, 'does want to care and show it to all but scared to be misjudged again is what they really are. 

"Oh? That most definitely wasn't how you felt when you'd first initially pointed the same rifle at me, remember?" Ten chuckles from in front of you, still in the uncomfortable, cornered, back pressed to the brick wall with your left arm on his chest the other pointing straight to the middle of his skull. His retort making you let out an airy, shaky laugh of your own. 

The first time you'd done it, your eyes were fueled with determination, you'd get this done and there would be nothing bold enough to dare stop you, except Ten, he was bold enough apparently. "That department store just got mobbed and you're going to stand with a stupid toy gun pointed at me who's not proven guilty of anything? Seems right enough for me that you work as a puppet for that messed up government," your eyes widen at his statement, turning back to see nothing but a tranquil customer filled store, turning back to the lad to find him out of sight. Ten lee had relatively gotten much more experienced and better and running out of sight, "Ten, You drive me crazy," you speak through gritted teeth. 

"You were the first one to outrun me, you know?" you lean closer, only to hear your colleagues get their own weapons off safety and ready to fire any second,

"Now, isn't that why you're so drawn to me? Your work would've been so much more boring if it weren't for me, if anything, you're welcome." Ten replied smugly, proud of all his interactions too absurd to be categorized as normal, nevertheless the few of moments in his life that makes him happy thinking back at it. "Tsk," you slightly pout, feeling your eyes glaze over the nth time that night, this would all soon fade into memory and for what? For the fact that no one was ever ready to listen to the wrongly framed. 

"Is the target acting hard to surrender, Agent 02?" you hear from your in ear piece, immediately responding with the most stable voice you could muster, "No, Sire, not at all," you reply, "Then why is it taking you so long, Ms. Y/l/n?"

"It's time, isn't it?" Ten asked with a sad smile on his face. All the days of running were finally coming to an end yet he felt like that wouldn't make up to all his lost days. Yes, he was more than grateful to you. For showing something humane exists where no one ever tried caring for what the other does or says. He liked that, though with the choice of path or career that called for some serious human emotion control, you nevertheless wanted to remain human. Ground to earth, and kind enough to valid his feelings. Valid his existence. Valid him and not see him as a target of any sort. 

"I don't want to, Ten. I could try explaining this to them-but-" 

"But they aren't like you, they work for those on a higher post and won't stop even when given a solid reason to and you know that better than anyone else," Ten explained rather calmly.

"Yes, but you don't deserve this.." You let your voice waver, finally, gripping the deadly weapon tightly, mindful to keep your fingers away from the trigger, "Agent 02, pull the trigger when I count down to 1." you flinch at the sudden voice interrupting the intimate moment between you and your now, friend. 

"15.."

"I shouldn't have accepted the tasks, then i wouldn't have had to be the one doing this, and i wouldn't have had to meet you, and right now, at this moment, more than anything, I wish i'd never met you," You scramble through your words to form coherent sentences and the stipulated time you're given, 

Ten laughs out a closed mouth laugh, "14.."

"Really? But i don't wish so," He hums, closing his eyes to fully indulge in your warmth. The same familiar warmth that embraced him during one of the most vulnerable nights of his life. The same warmth that kept him company on each day following all while still radiating coldness of suspicion, "13.."  which slowly but surely turned into nothing but warmth all after uncoiling what most before you didn't even bother to, "12.."

"It's not that I wish i didn't meet you, it's just i wish we'd met in different circumstances," One where you wouldn't have to go for all the cat and mouse chase all over again, where he'd be, "11.." a normal bachelor and you'd be one too, who'd oh so much in a cliché manner meet at a café,

"Well, we don't get everything we wish for now, do we?" His voice sounded so exhausted, yet, no hints of fear or despise or cruelty shone through. Just exhaustion, and maybe a bit of….relief? "10.."

"Ten, we still have a chance. I can still give it a..-"

"Y/n, look at me." 

"You being ready enough, human enough to study me thoroughly before conclusion has been more than enough for me to prove that humanity still exists, that listener still exists. And I wouldn't want anyone, rather you put an end to this little game of ours,``''9.."

"You need to do nothing else other than stay the same, " he started once again, this time, finally allowing his vulnerability to shine through his voice, "8..", "And to do the same you'd done with me with all those potential targets of your people," "But Ten, just-" "7.."

"It's either you or me, doll. Your helpers there look more than ready to shoot any betrayer," "Then so be it! But i can't.. I can't get myself to- I love you, i car-" "6.." 

"There. The only words that were left for me to hear," "5.." 

"Your people seem generous enough to let me go in this much of a, how do I put it? Grand.. Way?" "Ten I've got 5 seconds to change my mind, I can do something you know?-" 

"Y/n, my love. You're making this hard for both of us, so.. "

He did the said stunt move your head had warned you about, swiftly shifting your positions so that you were the one pressed against the unbelievably uncomfortable wall making your eyes widen, words "I love you too, doll" and "Fire!" mixed together, all you could see the next moment was a small smile on the lads face, red seeping through the material of his white hoodie before his now lifeless body slouched and fell right in front of you. 

The misunderstood had been deprived of their life once again. 

[yodamn]

Comfort

This is something I just thought up, enjoy!

-------------------------------------------------------

Thank God for your parents. Them having other children after you gave you the perfect amount of experience to handle the situation you were in. Your younger brothers, specifically, have helped you unknowingly.

There in front of you stands a Clone. But not just any clone. Marshal. Commander. Cody. THE Marshal Commander Cody. You aren't one of his brothers, you're just an officer delegated to Communications and occasionally getting one very finicky control console to work who, despite not being sentient, only works for you. Thanks Dad for teaching me some of your Mechanical Know-How. But anyway...

Marshal Commander Cody. SIC to General Master Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi. A highly skilled man. Trained to be able to take droids, or people, down extremely easily. Even though some people look down on clones not ONE person can say something bad about Cody in front of his face. Hes intimidating. He commands respect from COUNTLESS clones and he.

Hes got the same look your little brother gets after a really bad day at school.

Eyes glazed with just enough water to seem wet but not to the point of tears, blank stare through time and space. His posture isnt different but he probably is used to having to hide in his helmet. The ever so slight quiver of his bottom lip, most people wouldnt even notice. But you do. You always do. Its the exact same expression. And you can read it like a book. That faces says that he really just wants to be hugged tight and told its gonna be okay and go to sleep but hes not gonna ask for it. Hes hiding it well but youre used to seeing the signs. Sometimes your little brother, Gil, doesnt know how to ask when he needs help. He pushes people away. And your parents do their best, but they've got four other kids and their jobs, they don't catch everything. So then it becomes big sister to the rescue. Who had the time, patience, and energy to help.

And it seems like noone else notices whats happening to the Marshal Commander. You pay attention to the briefing of course but also keeping an eye on Cody. After the briefing youre just close enough to hear Cody dismiss himself as well, saying that he needed to get some work done. At that the plan is set into action. First stop? The Officer Lounge. You grab a cup of caf and put a lid on it. You stop by the officer barracks and grab the nice blanket your mom sent in a care package and swiftly continue towards the Clone Barracks.

There are horror stories told about the Clone Barracks by officers. That they'll eat you alive. That once a new recruit wandered in and was never seen again. Stupid things. But that doesnt mean walking into a hallway of barracks where you really stick out isnt scary. Their gazes are burning into you at all angles, curiosity, confusion, the occasional glare. You finally found the Commanders door. Looking both way you knock first. No answer. You know hes in there because the light of the pad beside you is on. Indicating someone is inside. You knock twice more with the same result. A sigh leaves your lips and you weigh your options.

Open the door yourself and possibly get yelled at. Potentially invade his privacy. Or leave and forget any of this happened. The second option seems more appealing. But then you remember why you came. Seeing his face in your memory. The look of pain in his eyes. Seeing your little brother in him, despite the commander being three times his size and much more intimidating than your dorky little brother. Taking a deep breath to steele yourself you gently and slowly open the door. Hes sitting on his bed. Head in his hands. In the dark. Just like Gil. And a gruff voice calls out.

"What do you want"

"Commander Cody?"

Apparently not the voice he was expecting because his head shot up.

"Can I help you? Is there something you need? I'm sure that-" you cut him off with a wave of your hand.

"No! No I dont need anything, its just," you sighed, no going back, "At the briefing today you seemed a little off, I thought you might need a little pick me up?" You offered with the still hot caf held out to him.

"I brought you some caf, and my extra blanket, its weighted and it always helps me so if you wanna borrow it..." You trailed looking away and then back to see him still staring at you.

"But! Thats-thats only if you want to, you dont have to I just, it helps me and I wanted to..." you stuttered and rambled while flailing your own free hand around.

"Thank you"

You stopped and stared at the man. The look was back. And oh how it hurt.

"I-Thank you, that's very thoughtful" Cody furrowed his eyebrows and scratched the back of his head. You extended the caf to him again, he took it and just held it in his hands.

"How-how did you know? How could you tell?" He asked, oh so softly. Running a hand down your cheek you gesture to the bed next to him and he nods and scoots over.

"Uh, well" you start and sit on the cot, you place the blanket down next to him and think back to Gil, "I'm the oldest of 5 kids in my family, and my parents try their best. But they dont always catch everything, what with having five kids and my mom and dad own a business and other family issues" you explain.

"Sometimes I step in to help, I dont have to. But I care, and they are important to me", you smile thinking about your younger siblings. Your parents were always so adamant about you not having to help. But at one point your grandfather got sick, had to come live with you. You wanted to step in to alleviate the stress. You lean back against the metal walls and looked at Cody.

"And you, sir", knocking your hand against the plastoid of his armored arm you shift to fully face him, "You had the same face that my little brother makes when hes had a really tough day and just wants to talk about it"

Cody chuckled taking a sip from the caf.

"Sorry if its not all that good, its just the caf they supply officers and I also dont know how you like your caf so..."

"No, no its fine, thank you" he whispers, he's so tired. You can see it in the way his eyelids flutter. "I can't really talk about what I do, it's confidential" hes slouching where he sits, soon you can see his head slightly bopping up and down. Resisting the pull of sleep.

"That's fine, you dont have to" you reassure patting him on the arm, you lightly rub your thumb in the crease between the armor and his blacks.

"Can you tell me about yourself then? Whats your favorite caf? Do you like bolo-ball?" You ask quietly, you move to sit in front of him on the floor. By slowly lowering your voice you should be able to get Cody to relax and fall asleep, it works for your. The big commander humms and slowly explains that he likes his caf with sugar but never can find any so he drinks it black mostly. He, like most of the clones, are loyal to the Corosaunt team. His voice getting softer and softer with yours as he went on. You hummed sweetly and looked at his armor. That can't be comfortable to sleep in.

Tapping your finger on his knee plate, and unfortunately reeling him back out of the sweet embrace of sleep. You ask if you can remove his armor, following that you didn't have to if he didn't want you to . Cody nods drowsily and croaks a yes out. You perch on your knees and begin to fumble with his leg armor.

"Please Cody, tell me more about Waxer and Boil" you prod gently while slipping your fingers into the magnetic locks. You had a nurse friend who had often had to remove armor from the clones due to them being unconscious. He had complained about how sometimes the locks would stick and explained how to get them unstuck. Not that you needed to know at the time, but it was useful right now.

Cody rambled on about Waxer and Boil and how sometimes Obi Wan would loose his lightsaber in battle.

He pouted, "Its rich because he always, always says 'The lightsaber is your life' to Skywalker..."

You giggle and stand up, he sighs and goes to lay back on the bed. Drunk in exhaustion. You had removed most of his armor, him removing things you couldn't.

He inhales and looks back at you, having sat back down next to the head of the bed. Cody lets out a sigh and continues to ramble, at this point his words are getting mixed up and jumbled. He had begun to explain how he got upset at all the paperwork he had to do and battle plans to make and military personnel to kiss up to, but you stopped him.

"Thats confidential remember?" You whispered, brushing a stray hair away.

"Thas right, you" he clumsily pointed up to you, "youre a good person"

Smiling you grab his hand and bring it to lay on his chest, "Thank you Cody, so are you" you softly pet his hand.

He turns onto his side and ever so slowly you see him slip into a peaceful sleep. You stand and lightly laid your blanket over him. It was muscle memory. Remembering all the times your parents had to work late or were focused on helping a sibling or relative that was sick and you had to put the others to bed. You tucked Cody in and gingerly lifting his head to move his pillow under him. After making sure he was covered you laid a kiss on his temple. Youre eyes snapped open and you tensed your back.

Why did I do that? You looked down at the man and he was still peacefully sleeping. Shaking your head you sighed, stupid muscle memory. You moved the cup of cold caf further on the nightstand next to his bed just incase her flailed an arm and he knocked it over. You brushed hair from his eyes once more before moving towards the door. Opening the door just enough for you to slip thru you turn down the lights and leave, shutting the door on your way out. Turning you bump into Obi Wan.

"Oh! Im so sorry General" You quietly stutter before moving past him.

"Oh please, I shouldnt have snuck up on you" he assures, "I must say thank you though, I noticed what you did"

Flushing you nod and continue out of the barracks.

The next day you wake up and go through all your duties. You had to make the control console work three times because it decided today wasnt a good day. Some shiny bumped into you in the mess, spilling all your food over you. You had assured him it was fine. All of your clothes were dirty so you had to continue the day with slightly gravy soaked clothes. Over all the day wasnt very good, and you just wanted to go to sleep.

You walk into the Officer barracks stripping down your uniform and tossing it. You washed all of the sticky feeling off of you, changed, and went to just pass out. Once you reached your bunk you see a piping hot caf on the nightstand and her blanket folded on her bed. Laying neatly on the blanket was a card. Opening it showed a simple message.

'Thank you, if you ever need anything dont hesitate to let me know

- Marshall Commander Cody'

You smile and curl up on your bed with the caf and your blanket. You can tell this is the begining of a beautiful friendship.

[siennahrobek]

10 BBY

Luke had screeched so loud; it nearly blew everyone’s eardrums. The entire ship had rattled.

They had been on their little ship, some months after Kix had been sent away when Luke had awoken in the middle of the night, something stirring him in a way that he couldn’t quite sleep through. Annoyed, he had gotten up and searched for Ben, a little stuffed toy wrapped in his arms. He would like cuddle with Ben under his cloak, he always knew it was safe and warm there.

He hadn’t found Ben in the little space where the pullout bed usually was, so he reached out for the cockpit. The older man was sitting in the pilot seat. Usually, Luke would jump up into the copilot seat but…but somehow it was occupied.

Which was impossible.

They were in the middle of space. The ship hadn’t even made contact with a planet or another ship in days. There was absolutely no way that Luke hadn’t seen this man in their little ship before.

He had long hair, partially pulled back, with cloaks a bit similar to Ben’s. He was insanely tall, at the very least to Luke’s standards. His wore an expression Luke couldn’t quite decipher. But then he realized a few other things.

The man was blue.

The man was see through.

Luke screamed at the top of his lungs.

Ben jumped and spun around and upon seeing Luke, cursed. The light blue man just scowled at Ben which made Luke even more upset. He shouldn’t be angry at Ben. There were already too many mad at Ben for reasons he didn’t even know. Here this man was, on their ship, showing displeasure with Ben. That was incredibly rude.

“Luke!” Ben called as he leapt for the boy, immediately wrapping him up in his cloak. The screaming stopped at least, and Luke shoved his face into the older man’s side as tight as he could, everything else shrouded in the quiet and pleasant darkness that Ben’s robe provided.

“What is that?” Luke demanded in a muffled voice, keeping his face deep into the layers of cloth and cotton of Ben’s clothes.

Ben just sighed and shifted, opening his cloak so that Luke couldn’t see the other being, but Ben and Luke could see one another. He looked down at him, his eyes soft and patient. “You remember what I said about the Force and death?”

“There is no death, there is the Force,” Luke quoted perfectly. The pleasant trill from Ben’s pleased feeling ran down the boy’s spine, making him even happier with himself. He was a good student; Luke had vowed he always would be. He had studied everything Ben had given or told him as much as he possibly could. But if that was what Ben was bringing up, what did it mean? “Of course,” he nodded and then paused, not entirely sure if his next question was the correct one. His nose scrunched up. “Is he…is he the Force?”

That sounded wrong and weird.

Ben just laughed lightly, and Luke couldn’t help but brighten, a smiling forming on his face. He loved making Ben laugh, it was a rare enough occurrence without Luke’s help. Ben shook his head though as he spoke. “No, beacon, he’s not the Force. That is Master Qui-Gon Jinn,” he clarified, unwearyingly. “He was the teacher who taught me to be a jedi.”

“I thought that was Master Yoda,” Luke asked with no small amount of caution, shifting to bring his fingers to the edges of the cloak, pulling them back barely enough to peek through the entrance, looking at the ghost with a highly suspicious stare. The being, very tall, he noted, was watching Ben curiously with a raised eyebrow. But at Luke’s statement, he almost even looked offended.

“I had many teachers since I was very small,” Ben assured, keeping his gaze on Luke rather than the blue man in front of them. “But Master Jinn was my master for over ten years. It was more of a personal relationship, I would travel with him, we would do missions together, and he would teach me all he could about being a jedi and the Force.”

“That’s a long time,” Luke muttered, thinking about how little time he had been with Ben. Would he travel with Ben for over…what was it? Ten years? That seemed like a long time, longer than he was right now. He couldn’t imagine not being with Ben now. Would he have to leave Ben someday? Luke didn’t think he wanted to, not for a long time, if ever. “So, you and him, were like you and me?”

Ben hesitated. “A little.”

He wasn’t sure if he liked how Ben said that. “You said the Jedi were gone,” he accused, still keeping one eye on the blue man. “And why is he blue? Why can I see through him? People aren’t usually see through.”

“The Jedi…are gone,” he said, hesitating on his words. He bit his words and Luke knew that he was doing that sad thing where all he could feel was grief, even though Ben’s shields were unbreakable. It was just something Luke could feel. He didn’t even think Ben knew that he could. “Master Jinn, died and became one with the Force but he has an ability where he has been able to speak with me.”

Luke thought about this for a moment. Okay, that sounded a little weird but at least it was some kind of explanation. With what he knew about the Force, virtually anything was possible, even blue beings one could see through. “I’m ready to leave now,” he announced and straightened himself, letting go of the edges of Ben’s cloak.

Ben nodded and took away his cloak, wrapping it tightly around himself again as Luke shifted away from him and brushed off his clothes. Someone chuckled. Luke was pretty sure it was the ghost. He walked up to the ghost, staring up at him with a stern stare. Master Jinn met his gaze. “You’re in my seat.”

Behind him, he heard Ben choke on a snort.

The man looked down at him, somewhat amused but otherwise, Luke wasn’t entirely sure what he was thinking. He could figure this weird man out, for certain. And he would figure out what he wanted with Ben. Or him. Or anything. “My apologies, young one. Would you like me to move?” he asked, moving as if there was wind around the cockpit. His own cloak kind of blew around.

Okay then.

Luke just shrugged, carelessly. He didn’t need the seat. Perhaps he could learn more without drawing suspicion. “It’s fine I guess, for now,” he said and turned back towards Ben. He didn’t even pause before he climbed up onto the older man’s lap, tucking himself to his chest and under his chest.

Ben barely reacted, just steadied Luke so he was comfortable and draped his arms around him. Luke waited patiently for the conversation to begin again. Would they just continue to talk about what they were before he had come inside? He wanted to know, for sure.

The ghost master choked on…Luke wasn’t sure what he was choking on. He was a ghost.

“So…” Luke started before anyone else could try to jump in, eyeing Qui-Gon warily. If they weren’t going to talk about anything, Luke would have to make his own conversation. “You were Ben’s master. What can you tell me about him?”

Perhaps this was a good way to learn more about Ben from an outsider’s point of view. It wasn’t often he got to meet any of Ben’s friends or family. He had a feeling it would probably be a rare occurrence, if not a possibility he would ever get again. Ben always said he should take advantage of any opportunities for intelligence gathering. So, he would take advantage.

Master Jinn laughed. “So much, little one. So much.”

6 BBY

“Can you tell me about my mother, Ben?”

The question had even surprised Luke to an extent, but Ben answered anyways, with the consistency of his smooth calm voice that always made him feel like things would be alright. Luke had always been interested in his father, since he was a Jedi and Ben actually knew him well. Talks about his mother weren’t nearly as in depth but sometimes Ben would mention things, usually things that Luke did or said that reminded him of her. Luke’s own questions were usually fairly specific about her. For some reason, he was feeling more curious than usual. “She was a queen when she was a teenager, of an entire planet.”

“No way.”

A whole planet, when she was his age. That seemed impossible.

“Yes. And she saved her people at the time too. She later became a Senator in the Republic,” Ben nodded quietly. Between his education on Tatooine and the bit more extensive training and schooling that Ben gave him, Luke knew about the Republic, a government that, although not by any means perfect, was leagues better than what they had currently. Certainly, better than their current Empire. “Your mother was the representative of Naboo.”

He had heard of it before, although a bit vaguely. A small, beautiful planet full of water and grass and two species of beings native to there. The Gungans and the Naboo. There were intense differences and at one point, had been fairly at odds with one another. Ben said they could never go there. It was much too close to the core for one thing but there was an interest that the Empire’s leaders had in it that made visiting dangerous. It was a tad disappointing; Luke had always wanted to go to as many planets as he could. It would have been nice to visit his mother’s home planet. Even if he had never really known her.

“Was she good at it?”

“Quite,” Ben nodded, his expression calm and even. But Luke knew better. He knew talking about the past, about the people he used to know and care about was both beneficial and difficult. He would talk about it, if Luke asked, and sometimes he even liked speaking of it. But that didn’t make the memories any less difficult to bear and speak of. “She was persuasive and beautiful and passionate. She did her best to keep democracy alive. She would have loved you so very much.”

Luke knew, distantly, that he had never known her, that she had died giving birth to him. Should he feel guilty? For causing her to die?

“Did my father die after?”

“Right before actually,” Ben stiffened, the way he always did when he talked about the demise of Anakin Skywalker, Luke’s father. “He always tried to protect her, as much as he could. I am unsure how he would have barred her passing.”

“He loved her,” Luke mumbled, playing with his fingers.

Ben’s response was haunted in a way that only Luke could identify, something secretive and terrible and sad, like he knew something and would never tell anyone. That kind of faithfulness was something Luke inspired to have. But there was something about it, just, something. “He loved her more than anything else in the galaxy.”

For some reason, Luke didn’t like the sound of that. He wasn’t sure why. The way Ben said it, like Luke’s father would have burned the entire galaxy down for his lover seemed like it should be romantic, that kind of loyalty, but it rather made something sink in his chest, his heart shivering in the cold of the thought.

“Have you ever been in love?”

The question seemed to catch Ben off guard, as though he wasn’t entirely expecting that from the boy. Luke couldn’t imagine any of his stories about love would end happy and well, considering he had ended up alone with only Luke for company.

“Uh…yes,” he answered, tentatively. “A few times actually.”

Luke perked and leaned forward eagerly, his eyes shining in curiosity and the simple need to know more. “Can you tell me about them? They must be amazing for you to fall in love with them.”

Ben’s chuckle was light and a tad awkward. “They were amazing, some of the most remarkable and fiercest women I have ever met. They were strong and stunning in their own, induvial ways.”

The boy listened in rapt attention as Ben explained those that he had once loved. He always spoke of them rather fondly, so Luke imagined none of them had disliked him at the end of their courtships or whatever they did. He spoke of a young girl he wanted peace and fought with everything she had to achieve it. He told Luke about the Duchess of a planet, about her wit and tongue. About her snark and logic and passion, her drive for peace and her convictions for pacifism. Although it sounded nice, as peace always did, Luke had a hard time thinking that it would actually work. He told him about a Jedi friend that he used to hold hands under the lunch table with. Luke laughed at that; it sounded like something he would like to do with someone, something close and simple. It wasn’t anything too fancy, just friends that loved each other. He told Luke about her strength and own drive for justice. Her ability to do anything and her skills that surpassed his own. For some reason the conversation tapered off after that even though there had to be something else.

It would be several weeks afterwards that Luke would find the crystal. It wasn’t a kyber crystal, but it was very warm. It had fallen out of Ben’s cloak when he asked Luke to grab it for him. He picked it up and carried it with him on his way back to Ben. They had a few hours to spend on a planet and neither was about to waste it.

“Thank you, Luke,” Ben murmured as he took the cloak and put it on, easily. It was such a practiced motion, completely fluid. Luke hoped that one day he would be able to do that as well.

“This fell out, Ben,” he said, offering the crystal.

Ben stared at for a long moment and for a minute, Luke thought he would not even take it. But then his eyes softened, and Luke almost thought that he would start crying. He took the stone in his hand and curled his fingers around it for a second before opening them back up to looked at it. “You want to know what this is?” he asked, meeting Luke’s gaze with a faint smile. Something quiet and soft.

He just nodded in response. Of course, he did.

“It is a warming crystal,” Ben explained tenderly and gestured for Luke to touch it. The feeling was beautiful. He knew it was warm, but it was like with Ben’s presence, with his words, it changed into something that heated something other than physical, like it reached into his heart to give it a comfy hug. “One of my dearest friends gave it to me before she died.”

Luke’s heart sank. That was so sad; it was a beautiful gift. His next guess was one that didn’t feel completely out of the blue, it felt right when he said it. Ben didn’t talk about just anybody with that tone. That tone that was wistful and tender. For some reason, Luke felt like he knew who it had been. “Did you love her?”

“Yes.”

“Which one?” Luke had a quess.

“What do you mean?”

“Was is it the girl you liked as a teenager? The one you used to hold hands with?”

The older man’s curious and mildly surprised glance was somehow vaguely amused and impressed that he had somehow guessed correctly. “Why yes, Luke, you would be accurate. She is the one who gave it to me. Siri Tachi.”

“Were you in love with her?”

The boy was fairly certain he knew the answer.

There was a distant look in Ben’s eyes as he gave in to a miniature sigh. His voice was soft, knowing, but still hesitant all the same, like he wasn’t sure if he should have been admitting something like that out loud. “Once upon a time, perhaps.”

Luke wondered why life kept taking away the people Ben loved.

Would he end up being taken away from Ben too?

3 BBY

Meditation did not come completely easy to Luke.

Not like it seemed to come to Ben. He could slip into such a deep meditation Luke was nearly envious. Luke was better at some of the more physical things. He was very strong with the Force. His katas were practically flawless at this point and his footwork was really amazing, at least that was what Ben had said. Luke often wondered if he was on par with what padawans should be doing at his age. Ben’s footwork was impossible to match. But then again, Ben had many years over him when it came to practice and experience. Which, he supposed, included meditation.

Luke would never stop trying though.

It wasn’t like it was extremely hard. Over the years, Luke had gotten a bit of a hang of it. Once he actually got into a steady meditation, it actually had helped him a lot. He did it quite a bit during their travels through space, although it was even more difficult then due to the cold nature of hyperspace.

He had done some moving meditations as well, but Luke didn’t think that was the problem. It was just something he would have to work at. Not everything could come naturally to him, even he knew that. One could be talented at one aspect and need to work harder at another. It wasn’t that complicated.

It was still a little frustrating sometimes, when he would see Ben do it so easily.

And it took so much more time for Luke to get to a comfortable state.

He shouldn’t be too hard on himself, Luke knew. When he did get into it, time meant very little, and he could meditate for hours.

Every time he got out of it and so much time had passed, he felt like it was a win.

He felt like he was getting better.

After such a long flight that lasted literally weeks, Ben and Luke were on a new planet. There was a very small Imperial presence, quite easy to avoid and Ben claimed they could stay here for a bit of time. They had lost Vader in their long travel, taking several hyperspace jumps to shake him off their tail and Luke would relish the time he would have planet side.

And he was older now. Ben trusted him by himself. It wasn’t that Ben hadn’t trusted him before, even when he was younger, but it was more that he was protective and Force – sensitives were hunted down with extreme prejudice. It was extremely frustrating, but Luke tried really hard not to blame Ben. It wasn’t always easy, but after a few close calls, Luke had done his very best to stay with Ben and understand his protective nature.

Besides, he was all that was left.

Once they had settled in planet side, they took a few hours to meditate, practically savoring in the living force where life and nature were abundant in all things around them. It was certainly a breath of fresh air.

He had noted the ground beneath him and the sky above, the animals rustling in the grass. The breeze sweeping through his hair. Reaching further he could hear and feel the music from the city, the steps of the civilians, the chatter and joy.

At some point, Ben had just chuckled, bringing Luke out of the meditation. He handed him a saber, Luke’s father’s, and a handful of credits with the suggestion he take a walk around the city.

He wasn’t one to pass that opportunity up.

Luke walked through the market, a bit of change in his pocket and his father’s saber tucked securely in his robes in a secret compartment where it could not be seen or swiped. He looked around with a bright smile, greeting near every person he came across.

He did a little window shopping and talked with some of the native citizens. He got a meloorun which tastes absolutely delicious, he even got one for Ben. Ben had probably had one before, he realized, but who knew, maybe he liked them and would appreciate the gesture.

Honestly, he was not sure how he had gotten into the mess.

In the end, he knew he should not have done anything. He wasn’t supposed to attract attention to himself. Not to get into fights. Especially not with people of power. Because people of power were petty and threw that power and weight around in whatever way they could. He probably had made it worse by punching the guy.

And of course, in typical Luke fashion, too late, he realized his mistake. He had just punched out an Imperial officer.

“Oh kark,” Luke muttered as he backed off. Already he was getting glances and stares from those surrounding him. Stormtroopers – not clone troopers, Luke always checked – caught sight of him and, of course, ordered him to stop.

He did the reasonable thing instead – he ran.

Of course, they would follow him, that was the only thing they were trained to do and Luke just kind of hated it. They were the idiots that were doing wrong and he’s suddenly the bad guy for punching some jerk in the face.

Using a blaster to shoot back, Luke failed to realize the intricacies of the city and after a terrible tumble through a few market stands, he lost the blaster. That didn’t stop the stormtroopers from firing at him though.

They had hit a storekeeper in the shoulder.

He had little choice. He had no weapon, the stormtroopers aim was so awful, they would just hit innocent civilians around him, even if they were scrabbling to get out of the way. He tucked his hand in his clothes and pulled out his father’s saber. The crystal whined at him, as it usually did when he had to use it, but he ignited the blade and whirled it around to a Djem So opening stance to deflect oncoming blaster fire.

Moving through the crowds, trying to draw the stormtroopers away, he tried to deflect blaster fire, only to so often find himself accidently grazing passing and scrambling people with the saber blade, a curse and an apology accompanying each time.

He was intently relieved once he had finally reached the city limits where the people population had thinned to somewhere he could work with. There were only a few of them, so easy to take down. Taking a stance, he smirked and let them come to him.

Making quick work of the couple of storm troopers, Luke sighed and tucked away the saber again, cloaking himself and putting up the hood.

Ben was going to have a field day with him.

***

Ben, in fact, did have a field day with him.

He took the lecture as well as he could, knowing that some of it, in the end, had been some of his fault. He felt the worst telling him about accidently injuring the civilians, even though Ben seemed to know most of it.

In the end, Ben just raked a hand across his face with a small sigh and they boarded their ship. Luke had thought for sure they would leave, but Ben just went to another part of the planet, something with tall grass and even taller trees, spread out less than most of the forests Luke had seen.

“What are we doing here?” he asked hesitantly.

“Take the saber,” Ben just ordered and exited the ship.

Luke did what he was told and followed him. They walked for nearly an hour into the forested area until Ben finally stopped. As he did, he turned to face Luke. “What…. exactly are we doing here?” he asked, glancing around.

“These trees? Civilians,” Ben said, patting one of the small trunks.

Luke just shot him an unimpressed look.

Ben just put up a finger for a moment before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a piece of chalk. He then drew a face on the trunk of the tree. “There, this is a civilian.”

“This is weird,” Luke muttered under his breath.

“Our first exercise will be me and our friendly training bots, shooting at you,” Ben explained, pulling out several flying balls of pain from a bag. He didn’t think Ben had brought those awful little things with them.

Luke just groaned.

The first few hours weren’t so bad. The firing came from one side, like was being chased and Luke had to navigate the forest without touching the trees with his saber. It wasn’t a perfect simulation, as the trees didn’t actually move like civilians or other people would, but it was a start.

But then, as it grew darker and they continued to work, the exercise changed. While Ben was behind him with a blaster, the flying balls of pain were shooting from the front, a barrage of blaster shots, Luke found himself realizing not all of their shots were directed at him. Some of them were directed at the trees beside and behind him. Did he need to protect the civilians?

Luke leapt forward to deflect a shot that was meant for a nearby tree, shooting it back at the origin and making sure his saber didn’t even come close to grazing the bark. Behind him Ben’s shots no longer seemed to be aimed at him, but rather, all around and past him.

He didn’t ask questions.

It was nearly impossible to see by the time that Ben had finally called it off. After gathering what meager supplies they had, the two of them worked their way back to the ship and Ben told him to get some rest.

The exercise had confused Luke a little, but he found he had a lot more control and thought over the saber when he moved it. As he got into the ship, he grabbed his bag and was ready to head to his room. He stopped.

“Oh, Ben?”

The older man stopped and glanced over at him. “Yes?”

“I dunno if you like these but uh, I tried this today and I thought you might like one too,” Luke said, tossing the fruit over to him.

Ben smiled warmly as he looked down at the fruit. “I actually do like these, Luke. Thank you very much,” he added before turning to walk back out of the ship.

“Where are you going?”

The older man shrugged and didn’t stop. “It is a beautiful night. I’m going to sleep outside.”

Luke’s eyebrows scrunched up and he glanced at his room, tucked away in the corner of the ship. With a grin, he grabbed a pillow and blanket and ran off after him.

Present PAst

Umbara was even darker than Luke had originally anticipated.

He nearly regretted not keeping the helmet.

The Force was clear – this was it.

Luke felt both mildly prepared and completely hopeless when it came the next events. He had been in plenty of conflicts before, countless firefights with stormtroopers, pirates and smugglers alike. He had even fought a few droids but nothing like this. It was dark and cloudy, and he felt like he was constantly choking on smoke and hate and death.

Whether Ben had recognized it or not, whether Luke had recognized it or not, Ben had been preparing him for war.

It was like he knew.

Perhaps it wasn’t that too far off. One day, Luke had always known, that he and Ben would go to war. Whether it be the Alliance against the Empire or now, with the Republic against the Separatists, he knew he would fight in a conflict such as this.

The gunship he had gotten into, the one that brought him down had exploded soon after it had dropped them off, killing the pilot and gunner instantly. The deaths hit Luke harder than he would admit, forcing him to stumble on the hard ground below him. Upon steadying himself barely seconds later, he ignited his guardian’s saber, the bright blue light springing to life and casting a glow across his face.

He did his best to keep out of the way of the fire from the squad he was surrounded with; Waxer was the only one he specifically knew personally, but there were plenty of other soldiers around him that had come in any number of other gunships. He leapt to the front of one of the waves of troopers and took a Soresu stance, quickly spinning his blade to catch and redirect as many bolts as possible, that came near him and the others.

Never before had he realized how the lightsaber form would come in handy.

Luke would have to thank Ben a thousand times for all the practices where he had made him go through katas and defend against the little flying round ball of pain that would shoot at him constantly. Luke had spent more than just hours and hours doing those two things. He would spend just hours nearly every day going through katas. Fighting against the flying ball of pain every time he could, every time Ben shoved it in his face.

He had never been so grateful for that.

Because deflecting so many blaster bolts was so much easier when he didn’t have to think about it so much. His arm would reach on its own just to catch a shot, his legs would twist into something of a dance to get to the other end to protect a soldier. Most of his attention actually ended up being to make sure he didn’t accidently get too close to the troopers themselves.

Luke hadn’t realized it growing up, he wasn’t entirely sure if Ben had realized it either, but he had taught him how to fight alongside troops with blasters. Once upon a time, it was just to be wary of citizens and crowds but they way Ben had taught, it worked even better with those firing behind and around him.

Two sabers-width apart and behind, stay to the side, never fight head on so you could keep an eye on those behind you.

Strength surged through his legs and his torso and his arms. His legs would survive his arms in terms of strength while his torso would survive both. He kept this in mind as he danced through the troopers and the spikey plants of the terrain they were surrounded with. His eyes forward and back, barely moving his saber if he didn’t have to, thinking of the little tips and tricks Ben had said and taught him over the years.

If nothing else, Luke would always keep Ben’s teachings to heart.

There was nothing to be seen aside from the light of the blaster bolts coming at them, but Luke was rather lucky, able to reach out and just kind of know where they were. It helped with cannon fire, at the very least.

A couple of times he accidently found himself quite a bit further than the troops, taking down ships and cannons, not waiting for the soldiers. He ran along the ridge, swinging his saber with all his strength, slicing straight through one of the ships they used as cannon fire, the metal screeching as it broke apart and melted with the contact from the saber. The native that maned the canon shrieked even louder as they tried to escape his wrath.

It would take a few minutes for the troops to catch up. Luke didn’t remember exactly what he had said, but he would always distinctly remember the shrieking and scolding Waxer had laid out in his ear.

He felt a little bad for a moment; he was trying to protect them.

Although it had taken some time, it caught up to him. The feeling.

It was the death that had hit Luke harder than he was expecting. It was overwhelming.

Luke was quite a bit sensitive to the Force, just like his father before him, Ben had always said. They worked a lot on his shields over the years, trying to build them up as much as they could, to keep the overwhelming feelings out, but honestly, Luke hadn’t been expecting this. Logically, he knew, even when he got on the gunship before, there would be a terrible amount of death. He knew that. He thought he was prepared for it.

He wasn’t.

He wasn’t prepared at all.

He was choking on it.

It was affecting his performance, even he knew that. It was hard to concentrate on the task at hand when so many people were dying around him.

To his complete and utter relief, it wasn’t long after the choking feeling of the mortality around him started, that they pushed back the enemy forces into a most likely very temporary reprieve. But Luke would take what he could get. He sheathed his guardian’s saber and clipped it to his belt, sliding down the wall of one of the trenches, trying to catch his breath.

All he caught was the death milling around.

There were a few soldiers shuffling around him but the closest one, sitting next to him, had asked him if he was okay. Or at least, that was what Luke thought he said. His ears were buzzing a bit from all the explosions that had gone off. The explosions that were still going off.

“It’s…it’s the death,” he whispered to the soldier next to him, gagging as if that would help the feeling in his head, in his chest, in his heart, slowly coiling around him like an oily black darkness, trying to snuff out everything. “I just…I thought my shields were enough, I’ve been working on them so hard, I thought I would be okay but… but it’s just…so overwhelming,” he strangled out.

Luke barely recognized Waxer amongst the troopers that were around him. He and those few others stared at him before exchanging glances amongst themselves. They all seemed rather hesitant to speak. He couldn’t see anything and with his ears whirring, he couldn’t tell who had spoken next. “Are you…are you telling me you can feel it when someone dies?”

Tears were slipping from his eyes against his will and running silently down his cheeks, even they felt painful. He wanted Ben, just wanted Ben to help him. His chest hurt. His head hurt, he couldn’t quite get a hold of all of these feelings and emotions. He needed help. It was just all too much. He had always felt too much and it was so hard to do it by himself. “Yes,” he murmured, nearly inaudibly.

Something passed between the soldiers that Luke didn’t understand. It was a feeling, or, rather, an entire mob of feelings, intertwined and tangled within one another with a range that he couldn’t even begin to list.

“Can we do anything to help?” one of them asked, hesitantly.

“Aside from dying,” another grunted.

Luke tried to laugh but nothing really came out. Ben could help, he was probably the only one who could, but that wasn’t their fault. It wasn’t their fault that their general was in an unexplainable coma up in space, safe on his ship, surrounded by everyone else. It wasn’t their fault that their general wasn’t here to help and protect and plan with them. It wasn’t their fault that Luke decided he could play war and try to keep these men alive.

“I’ll be okay,” he assured but he himself wasn’t entirely sure if they bought that. No wonder Ben had liked these guys so much, they were smart, loyal, observant. “I just gotta strengthen my shields,” he explained and tried to sit up in an attempt for a quick meditation. It wouldn’t be much, it may barely help, but it was better than nothing at all. “I haven’t…I haven’t been around this much death at one time,” he grimaced.

Their expressions were sympathetic.

“I had been a baby when everything was gone, when the galaxy went to ruin,” the words came out of Luke in a stream he couldn’t quite stop. “I had been so used to Ben’s grief, as much as he tried to hide it, I thought I knew what it felt like. He had been through so much, felt so much death, I thought that since I was so close with him, so in tune with his feelings, I knew.” He shook his head. “I didn’t. Not at all.”

“Ben?” one of the troopers whispered quietly.

“General Kenobi,” another corrected. “That’s his padawan.”

Perhaps it was just a wishful moment, something he just wanted so bad, he didn’t correct him.

Because did he ever want to be that.

“We have a few minutes before the next wave hits,” Waxer said, crouching beside Luke, his brows scrunched up tightly in concern. There was a new type of apprehension and understanding in his expression, like Luke had given him some kind of secret. He didn’t know what kind it was. “You stay here, meditate or whatever you need to. I’ll let you know when it is time to move.”

Luke felt a little bad but was grateful for the gesture.

Swallowing down everything he felt, Luke kneeled on the ground, his hands on his legs as he took a deep breath, weaving his shields together like an indestructible tapestry, reaching out into the Force for anything, everything. For help, assistance, protection, knowledge, hope.

He could feel those around him, the soldiers slowly dying from mortal wounds, unable to be helped or healed. Luke shifted his presence to them and tried to visualize all those that he could, as if he was right next to them, holding their hands and whispering assurances as they passed into the Force. He couldn’t stop them from dying anymore, but he could ensure that they would not die alone.

No one should have to die alone.

Luke hadn’t completely known how long it had been before Waxer shook him out of his meditation, gently. They had to beat down this new wave of the native militia to clear out the forces from the main 212th’s forces attacking the capitol.

Dusting himself off, his guardian’s saber flew to his hand as he jumped from the trenches and ignited the blade.

“There is no death,” he recited like a mantra as he took a breath, narrowing his eyes and his determination curling up in his chest. “There is the Force.”

Something shifted in Luke’s style as he helped defend Waxer’s platoon from the attack. He kept note of his position at all times, as well as any of those around him and always tried to stay at the very least, in sight of Waxer himself, who was absolutely determined to get Luke through this.

Amusing, Luke had thought. He was doing the same thing.

The final wave had been mostly stragglers from the others, in a desperate attempt to come up on the rest of 212th with Cody in the lead towards the Capitol. But Waxer’s platoon was highly competent, as was much of the Republic’s military and it had Luke in somewhat of an awe.

The Empire’s stormtroopers had the numbers to virtually overwhelm anyone and sure, they were trained, but they were nothing like this. They had nothing on the clone troopers and for Luke, that was rather a sight to behold.

Upon utterly destroying the downed and grounded gunships of the Umbarans with his saber, they were guaranteed another reprieve as the enemy forces dwindled down to barely anything.

Luke met a few of them in the trenches, Waxer several meters away, talking on his commlink.

“Not bad kid,” one of the troopers – Duster – grinned at him, nudging Luke with his shoulder. “For your first time alongside the 212th.”

“Do you have any real battle experience?” another asked.

Luke shrugged. “Not with troopers like you guys. But Ben has been teaching me lots of things.”

“Ben…do you…you mean General Kenobi?”

The boy nodded. “Yes. It’s kind of a long story,” he admitted.

“You’ll have to let us know how you got tangled up with the General without any of the 212thknowing,” Wish added, clapping Luke on the back. He nearly fell into the muddy wall before him. Luke just laughed.

“When this is over, perhaps.”

“You did good, Luke,” Freefall agreed. “But I suppose we shouldn’t expect any less from General Kenobi’s padawan.”

Something stuck in Luke’s throat even though he knew there wasn’t anything there.

“We got new orders, boys,” Lieutenant Waxer said, trudging through the trenches from behind them. He had ended his call and from what Luke could tell, it hadn’t been a good one. He looked terribly sad, and it turned Luke’s stomach inside out. “We got some coordinates where the natives are coming up our backside.”

The orders went through the ranks as Waxer continued, his face twisting in grief and anger. “We are warned that they are dressed in trooper armor, hoping to surprise us.”

Fury flared up from the troopers as Luke glanced around, narrowing his eyes warily.

“That woulda been the 501st,” one of the troopers, Arrow, realized, lowly.

“They’re dead,” Wish mumbled.

Waxer just nodded silently. “There is nothing we can do for them now but make sure their sacrifice was not in vain. We take down those who desecrate their armor and protect the rest of the 212th. Understood?”

“Yes sir!” came a multitude of shouts.

And then, they were off towards the given coordinates.

Luke’s suspicion only grew from there. He didn’t take the lead per say but he was up there, in front, waiting and watching. Nothing about this scenario felt right. Waxer stayed close to him as the platoon creeped forward. His heart was pounding, harder and harder, anxiety rising.

They traveled a little further, closer to the coordinates.

Luke didn’t know who had started the firing, but it happened all at once. He watched for the briefest moment at the fire, the type and color. Then he reached out in the force, taking a deep breath, and keeping his free hand aloft.

Ragepanicfear.

Determinationangergreif.

This was it.

Those weren’t Umbarans.

“Stop!” Luke yelled at the top of his lungs, his blade swinging out just to show that he had one, using the Force to propel himself upward towards a ridge for a better view and vantage point. Perhaps…perhaps…

“Ceasfire! Ceasefire immediately!” Waxer shout out, lowering his own weapon as he relayed Luke’s order without question. His trust in him made Luke’s heart squeeze. He had been climbing the ridge towards him, probably having the same thought as the little jedi. Luke jumped in front of him as he got to the top, blocking a blaster bolt from the other side.

Waxer flinched.

The firing slowed to a stop. In the end, it had barely been a few minutes, but it was enough. Some were dead but Luke knew it could have been a lot worse. It could have been so much worse.

It probably had been, the first time around.

Waxer’s platoon had stepped back, leaning against some of the trees and each other for support, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Waxer and Luke glanced at one another, neither seemed to look particularly optimistic about the outcome.

They got down from the ridge, walking through the plants towards the opposing side. A few soldiers from the front lines on each side walked towards one another, shocked and terrified.

“Where is your leader?” Luke called out, looking around.

There wasn’t an answer.

“You heard him,” Waxer shouted out, his eyes narrowing into something that would not be questioned. “Where is your commanding officer?”

“Rex!”

The familiar jaig eyes and kama came through the forest as he took off his helmet. He did not seem particularly surprised at the sight of Luke, but he didn’t look very happy about it either. He walked towards them, the only emotion he showed was a shimmering anger. It wasn’t very obvious, but Luke could tell, he could feel it, no matter how much Rex tried to hide it.

“Tell me,” Luke asked, his voice low and irate. They all knew it wasn’t at them but that didn’t stop some of the 501st from wincing or glancing away. “Who gave you the order?”

“It was General Krell,” Captain Rex replied immediately, staring at Luke. His voice even sounded numb, if that was a thing one could hear. “He told us there were Umbarans that were disguised as troopers. We thought the 212th were dead.”

Luke’s eyes narrowed as he took a step back and stood taller. “General Krell is the traitor,” he murmured, crossing his arms. He couldn’t believe it. The first battle was the one that Boil had told him about, probably the exact one that Waxer would have lost his life. What were the odds of that? The Force, Luke knew, because of course. He shouldn’t have been surprised, there was a reason for everything. He just hadn’t quite thought of it.

“What?” Rex asked, his voice catching on the word. He didn’t sound particularly happy with Luke which the latter could understand. There was no warning from him, but Luke hadn’t actually known that this had been the invasion that involved the former jedi conspirator. “You suspected a traitor?”

“I knew Waxer had died on a dark planet due to a case of friendly fire on the word of a traitor,” Luke explained vaguely, not backing down from Rex’s stare. He had not known it was this one. Suspected, maybe. The Force had certainly given him warning of something, but it was just an alert of caution, something vague and unexplainable. Not something specific that Luke would know. It was just a bad feeling, a warning of some kind.

Waxer just paled as he realized what exactly had happened the first time around and how it had happened. He would have died if Luke hadn’t been there. Somewhere, he knew that he had, during the war. When Luke spoke, it seemed very obvious that many of them hadn’t survived and Waxer knew himself specifically because he wasn’t with Boil but he didn’t realize this had been the planet where it had happened the first time.

How close he would have come.

“I didn’t know who it was at first,” Luke admitted, finally looking down for a moment in thought. “But I believe it is fairly clear now. General Krell told you and us the same thing with the hopes of everyone just killing one another,” Luke said, his hand curling around the hilt of Kenobi’s saber tightly. Even though it was on his belt, clipped securely, his grip was so tight he nearly thought he would have cracked the metal of the saber. He had to think of a plan and think of it fast. They wouldn’t have a lot of time, he imagined. He didn’t know Krell, anything about him really, but Luke doubted he would be much of a match for a fully trained jedi.

He wasn’t even really a padawan.

“Why? Why would he do this?” one of the troopers surrounding them asked, desperation coating the sound of his voice. From the 501st, he realized, but Luke didn’t know who it was specifically.

That was a question, to be certain, Luke mused. Personally, at this point he cared very little about the why. He was a traitor, one that had inspired such regret and anger from Boil and Ben, Luke had very little interest in the reasons why a traitor betrayed them. Why he had sent forces to murder one another.

“What are you thinking, Luke,” Waxer nudged him gently.

Luke caught Rex’s gaze again, narrowing his eyes. He didn’t need to reach towards Rex’s mind for intentions to know what he was thinking. “He’s thinking the same thing, aren’t you captain?”

Everyone went to look at the captain as he narrowed his own eyes to match the young jedi. “That is highly treasonous,” Rex replied, his voice just a bit more than a mumble.

“But it is what must be done,” Luke affirmed with a nod and Rex seemed to agree silently, just exhaling quietly. “We will need to move quickly, I think.”

“Yes,” Rex approved. “We cannot allow General Krell to sabotage the rest of the invasion…if that is what you think his goal is.”

“I do,” Luke replied, his heart pounding. This was a lot bigger and a lot more dangerous than Luke had thought this whole scenario and battle would be. He had been anticipating battle droids and the local militia, definitive enemies. Not traitors, people they were supposed to trust.

They were supposed to be able to trust the Jedi.

The thought of Krell being a jedi, at any point in time, felt unfeasible.

“We still need Forces to continue to cover Commander Cody and the rest of the 212th’s back,” Waxer noted, glancing between the two, a bit anxious. “We can’t have any real Umbarans from sneaking up.”

“You and your platoon can continue your mission,” Luke suggested quietly. “I will be going with Rex and the 501stback to Krell to assist in the arrest.”

Waxer just stared at him, with a bit flat expression and no small amount of dead pan. “I’ll have Freefall lead them back,” he announced.

Freefall looked accepting but a tad confused. Luke opened his mouth…

“And before you say a word,” Waxer put up his hand to stop Luke from speaking. “Don’t think for a second, I’m going to let you go without me. Pretty sure General Kenobi would have my head if I left his padawan commander alone to fight off a jedi general traitor,” he said, furrowing his brows but his lips played in some kind of vague amusement.

Luke just rolled his eyes. A few of the others around them looked at him with a bit new interest.

“I’ll go tell some of the men,” Captain Rex muttered after giving them a few weird looks before he jogged away, to where most of his troopers were trying to calm themselves out of the ordeal that had nearly just occurred. The few already around them, listening, were already ready to obey.

“Didn’t realize General Kenobi had a padawan,” one of the 501st troopers said, with a bit of a raised eyebrow as he gave Luke a look as if he was sizing him up. Luke wondered how he did measure up with what they knew about their own leaders and the jedi they knew.

“He always seems to have his hands full with General Skywalker and Commander Tano.”

“I…I’m not really a padawan,” Luke pointed out, uncomfortably, keeping close with Waxer and the couple of 212ththat stayed with them. “It is bit complicated, though.”

Most of Waxer’s platoon, under Freefall’s command, left the area to hold the ridge a bit back, covering Commander Cody and the bulk of the 212th’s flank. The majority of the 501st present that had been sent with them to fight in the conflict that ended up being a friendly fire incident, were sent back and told to stay outside of the base, keep with the others that had stayed behind, and not do anything until orders were given. They were warned of conflict that would almost definitely arise. No one was given much information aside from that.

No one was entirely certain how this would pan out.

As Luke, Captain Rex, and Lieutenant Waxer, alongside several other troopers, made their way back to the airbase that the 501st had claimed, Luke mulled over possible plans. Rex and Waxer were talking amongst one another as well, making their own. He didn’t think that either of them thought it would be easy, but things were rarely simple.

“What kind of saber does he have?” Luke asked suddenly.

The two leaders glanced at him, cutting off their conversation. Luke felt a little bad for interrupting them. “He’s got two…. or four, depending on how he uses it. There are four but you can put two together to make a double ended staff,” Rex reported. “At least, that is what it looks like.”

Luke nodded, reaching up to shake a hand through his hair. Man, he wished Ben was here. He could probably kick this guy’s ass easy. “Even if we surprise him, overwhelm him, even if we have enough, he will probably flee,” he noted.

“He will most likely be stationed in the tower, where the communications are,” one of the troopers said, firmly. The others nodded in agreement. They were getting close, Luke could see the top of the tower now, even through the shrouded darkness and plants.

“The only way in or out is through the elevator,” Rex recounted, putting his helmet on again. “It’s not a very big room, we can probably get a dozen or so troopers in there. I’d like to get Jesse and Fives’ help in the arrest as well, it’s on our way up.”

“If he can’t get through the door, he could go through the window,” Waxer pointed out, pointing up to the tower. It did indeed have a large window that made up at least a third of the outside. “Jedi can do huge jumps from incredibly heights; he could make it. I’ve seen General Kenobi do some pretty insane leaps.”

“We could lose him in the forest,” Rex frowned as he mulled this thought over. “It’s dark and hard to see, if he wanted to escape, we wouldn’t be able to find him. He could pick us off.”

“Not if we use it to our advantage,” Luke replied, trying to think back to what things he had seen during the battle before. Even without the local militia and their cannons having tried to kill them, the native plants to the planet were nearly just as deadly. “You’ve seen those disgusting carnivorous plants that are just kind of, lying around?”

Everyone nodded, grimly. Rex seemed to get the idea. “We rumble any one of them up and if Krell gets close, boom, he’s at the very least unconscious.”

“Precisely,” Luke snapped his fingers.

“Do you think he will get away from us? From the building?” Waxer asked.

“I think it is a possibility for certain,” Luke nodded. “Ben has told me a lot of things over the years and taught me a lot of plans and strategies and tips on the behavior of opponents. Even some of the most hardcore and sadistic individuals will retreat if surprised or outnumbered too much, even if they have an extreme advantage. In this case, his four sabers.”

“Do you think you can beat him?” a trooper asked, slowing down a little.

Luke sighed but shook his head. “No. I don’t think I could beat him in single combat,” he admitted, although a bit reluctantly. No one ever really wanted to admit their faults or inabilities in any case, but Luke would not be a fool. “Don’t get me wrong, even on the chance of sounding cocky, I’m actually pretty good with a saber. But Krell probably has years and a lot more experience on me. I’ll be an asset, but I don’t think I can beat him.”

It wasn’t very comforting.

They made their way back to the base and those who had volunteered had marched with them into the building. On their way up, Rex had gotten Jesse and Fives out of prison, giving them back their armor and weapons. A bit surprised by the new Jedi, and a bit suspicious, Rex gave them a quick rundown of not only the General but Luke as well.

The whole, time travel bit had people staring at him like he had two heads, as it was fairly hard to believe, but Luke just shrugged it off. Everyone involved had a lot of questions, since Waxer and Rex were the only ones who knew about it and Luke assured that plenty of questions would be answered later, if they survived this, of course.

As they came up, Luke kept Ben’s saber in his hand tightly, although not yet ignited, ready to burst out the instant there was a wrong move made by their opponent.

“General Krell, you are being relieved of duty,” Rex announced as he walked in, Waxer on one side and Luke on the other. The troopers they had come with quickly circled the besalisk, readying their weapons to fire at a moment’s notice.

Krell began to turn, folding his hands behind his back, casually. The gesture really rubbed Luke the wrong way; this whole being’s presence rubbed him the wrong way really. How casual he was being, like he saw this coming. It was possible, Luke supposed, but it didn’t aggravate him any less. “It’s treason then,” the low voice nearly chuckled.

“Surrender, General,” Rex added, unholstering his double pistols to point at the besalisk. Waxer already had his out and Luke had his guardian’s saber in hand, still not quite yet lit.

“You’re committing mutiny, captain,” the former jedi pointed out with a sly smile.

“Explain your actions,” Rex demanded but Krell’s attention turned elsewhere his eyes sweeping over the three of them. He seemed rather at ease for someone who had over a dozen blasters pointed directly at him, reading to fire. Luke hated the way he just brushed everyone else off like they were nothing to concern himself with.

“Ah, Kenobi’s new little padawan,” Krell crooned, mockingly with a menacing, sly grin. “I heard about you.”

“The captain told you to explain your actions,” Luke snapped, his lip curling and his foot stepping forward into a steady stance. He didn’t know exactly how Krell knew about him; Luke hadn’t even been around for more than a day, spending a couple hours on the Resolute, a few more on the Negotiator and the rest in battle, where he knewCommander Cody did not know that he was. He didn’t really think anyone had informed Krell about his existence, much less his presence on the planet.

“I figured it must have been someone elseto figure it out,” Krell shrugged his shoulders, his top arms rolling with them. His tone was so dismissive. “Creatures bred in some laboratory; they would never figure something like that out.”

That was literally one of the most ridiculous things Luke had ever heard.

“Surrender, General,” Luke demanded, gesturing to him with the hand that held Kenobi’s lightsaber. Krell glanced at it with ridge raised, curiously. He had something planned, something up his sleeve, Luke realized but his mouth continued where his brain told him something else. “You are under arrest for crimes against the Republic.”

It sounded so good; Luke had thought, he sounded so confident and sure of himself. And for the briefest of moments, he thought that perhaps Krell would have done the right then. He seemed to hesitate, like as if just knowing that Luke was training under General Kenobi, that would mean something.

He wondered if it did.

Luke almost hadn’t seen the blow coming. The only reason he had noticed it and hadn’t been cut down immediately was because Krell had taken the time to Force push the majority of the clones into the wall and ignite his sabers. Two, Luke had noted, double-ended.

The clones shouted and grunted as they hit the walls, luckily a force that didn’t kill or terribly injure them on impact.

Kenobi’s saber ignited and blocked Krell’s initial blow on mere instinct and he couldn’t be more grateful for it. Luke wasn’t quite physically strong enough for a blow like this, even though he knew the Force was helping with the push back. The pressure had shifted Luke’s feet back, sliding across the floor a bit, blue and green illuminating both of their faces.

Augh, his breath was awful.

Blasters had come up and began firing at the former general, so Krell had to move at least one of his sabers to block them, giving Luke a little more leeway. The boy ducked underneath one, slashing at the being’s side. He didn’t know if he hit a mark or not, but Luke just had to get away to regain himself.

Krell gutted through one of the soldiers and cut the head off another as he spun around, his eyes gleaming at Luke in some kind of weird interest and anticipation.

Luke had a bad feeling about this.

But just like he suspected, Krell crashed into the window and leapt from the building down to the forest below. They didn’t even take a moment to look down, rather glancing at one another as they all made their way down to the floor of the building.

By the time they had gotten there, the firefight had ceased and General Krell had disappeared into the nature of the dark planet. Luke had reignited the saber once they had run out, just in case, but were stopped by another trooper, one without a helmet and an odd tattoo covering some of his face.

“Dogma,” someone muttered. “Lower your weapon.”

Luke kept his guardian’s saber aloft and in front of him.

“I…I can’t do that. I’m doing my duty!” Dogma shouted, although his voice wavered. “You are all traitors!”

Luke stepped forward; Waxer reached out to stop him, but it was a half gesture. “Look, Dogma, is it? My name is Luke and I…I am a jedi. I…work with General Kenobi, and Krell? He is a traitor. He just killed dozens of your brothers, and we have to get through to him now,” he insisted, his voice stronger than he had ever heard it.

It didn’t really seem to change Dogma’s mind or anything, but it did give a few soldiers to tackle him into the ground.

“Put him in the brig,” Rex ordered as the rest of them continued their chase into the Umbaran forests.

The birds screamed in the mist darkness, calling out cries in a fairly consistent manner. The troopers had spread out in a grid, trying to find the wayward General. Luke followed closely with Waxer and Rex, alongside several other troopers, his saber in hand but not ignited. No need to attract any unwanted attention unless necessary.

“Anyone got anything?” Rex asked into his commlink.

“Ah negative, Captain,” a voice called through the comm on the captain’s vambrace. “We lost him,” the voice added with a bit of a resigned sigh. There was a pause. “Wait…”

Screams filtered through the communication device as the soldiers cried out in pain and death.

Luke stiffened as the trooper called out for them to hurry. Picking up their pace, they came to some cover where Rex put his fingers to a switch on his helmet to look through a filter for getting a better visual. “He’s coming,” he warned.

The soldiers quickly got into positions, readying their weapons for fire.

“I was using you,” Krell laughed, his voice echoing through the mist.

“Get him!” Rex yelled, spinning around towards the voice but it was coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It was impossible to know where he was. Luke gritted his teeth; it was hard to concentrate in the Force, to find him with so much going on.

“You have all been my pawns and continue to be so,” Krell called out with some sort of tone of sick glee. “I can and you fell for it, continue to fall for it. You are so completely inferior.”

Jesse snarled.

“You’re a jedi!” Fives snapped, shooting up at the air where he thought the General may have been. Nothing happed.

But then.

Krell jumped down from out of nowhere and spun his blades around, slicing through several troopers. Shots were fired and he deflected them back at the original shooters. Luke desperately tried to batter them away from their targets.

“I am no longer naïve enough to be a jedi,” he announced, straightening himself and easily deflecting blasters as he moved through the forest. “A new power is rising, and I have foreseen it.”

Luke had found his opening as Krell rolled across the ground, temporarily putting his sabers away. He got a graze in before the besalisk reignited his own sabers and blocked. Luke’s soresu came in handy as he blocked a barrage of relentless blows.

“The Jedi are going to lose this war and the Republic will be ripped apart from the inside.”

Luke’s eyes widened. How did he know? How did he know?

Krell used this distraction to throw Luke off with a laugh. Waxer and a few troopers fired ceaselessly, to give Luke enough time to get up and regain himself.

“You’re a Separatist,” Rex snapped as he fired upon the former general.

Krell batted the blaster bolts back at him. Luke jumped in front to deflect them away, vaulting back into close combat with the four armed being.

“You’re working for Dooku,” Luke guessed.

It was a long shot, but Luke had heard plenty about the former Jedi who became a Sith Lord during the Clone Wars. And if there was one thing that Luke did know about Count Dooku, it was it seemed that he had a lot of underlings and apprentices during the course of the nearly four years of the war.

It was a guess, but it wasn’t a bad one.

Turned out, he wasn’t far off.

“Not yet,” Krell grinned as Luke spun around, trying to lead him away from the troopers. Rex was listening to someone in his commlink as the others around him were trying to fire at Krell without hitting Luke.

The two of them were stuck in a whirling of blades that made it very difficult, Luke barely keeping himself from being torn to shreds. He kept getting forced back and back.

He spared a glance at Rex who pointed towards a small, bumpy field behind him. A lone trooper stood amongst the lumps, waiting. Okay, so they had a plan then. Shouldn’t be too hard, to let Krell push him back like this. He was doing it anyways.

“You really think that Dooku is going to take someone like you to be his next apprentice?” Luke barely afforded the snort as he nearly got himself decapitated by Krell’s blade. “Can’t imagine he would want anything to do with you.”

Krell’s grin just widened into something fearsome and sinister. “I was going to drive the Republic from this planet, true,” he admitted, pushing at Luke harder and harder. His hands were sweaty, keeping a hand on his guardian’s saber was a bit difficult but the grips had certainly helped.

Luke ducked, nearly falling completely to the ground at one of Krell’s slashes. He rolled as the other one came down for his head. It gave him a moment to stand again. Using that moment and the Force, he pushed Krell back as much as he could into the field.

And ended up being pushed as well.

He hoped the troopers knew what they were doing. Luke really didn’t want to get eaten by this thing.

“But really, everyone knows about the Count’s interest in Kenobi,” Krell hissed, nearing his ear. Man, this guy’s breath was truly, truly something awful. Luke fought the urge to gag. “I wonder how interested he would be in Kenobi’s new pet.”

Oh kark.

The moment was a poor one and Luke felt rather embarrassed that it had happened. Krell force pushed him several meters, right into the poor soldier standing in the field. He and the trooper fell to the ground in a heap of a tangled mess of armor and limbs, failing to get themselves free of one another, both mouths full of quiet curses.

Krell laughed again and took a few more steps forward.

And the troopers’ plan worked.

The lumps were the carnivorous creatures and the soldiers had been steadily driving Krell towards that lone trooper, who knew exactly what was there.

Luke thought it had worked. It almost did. The carnivorous plant waved the former jedi around, splitting one of his sabers and then eating it. The besalisk fended off the barrage of shots from the other troopers wildly with a growl. Luke swung forcefully and cut off the arm of the plant, so it dropped Krell. He hit the ground hard, his saber flying several meters away.

Surrounded by a few troopers who had their blasters pointed at him, Luke stood with them, over the defeated besalisk. He was hemmed in, he had no weapon, there was no way out.

“Surrender Krell,” Luke hissed.

Something gleamed in Krell’s eyes.

Wrong. This felt very wrong.

Luke glanced around, trying to figure out and understand what was happening. “On guard!” he shouted out moments before the shooting started. The shooting hadn’t been from the 501st.

Luke cursed loudly and waved the saber around to deflect the shots, reaching out with the Force. There was nothing there. That meant only one thing.

“DROIDS!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, letting his voice carrying through the wind, carry through the Force. How had they gotten here? The Republic was fighting the local militias, he hadn’t known or even thought they would have droid backup. They didn’t have a plan for this. “Back to the airbase! Retreat!”

He almost felt bad for giving orders, it wasn’t his place. But he knew Rex and Waxer would say the same. They had been trying to create a trap for Krell, not the newest Separatists surprise.

Krell let out a laugh and kicked out at Luke, shoving him to the ground, before jumping up and running away, picking up his lightsaber as he went.

He hadn’t known where they had been, but suddenly Rex and Waxer, with a few others, were at his side. “How did droids get here?” Rex snarled as he shot into the dark. A few of them had came into eye contact but were quickly put down.

Luke would forever marvel at the competency of the clone troopers. It really made him miss Boil.

“Krell must have called them,” one of the 501st suggested, although a bit uncertainly, letting off a few shots.

“He is a traitor,” Waxer agreed with a growl. “He would have to betray us for someone. He did say he wanted to be Dooku’s newest lackey.”

“I’m going after Krell,” Luke announced, his eyes flaring up in anger and determination.

“You said it yourself, you can’t take him,” Rex argued, trying to hold Luke back. The boy tore himself from the grip, deflecting a few more shots from the enemy.

“I have to try. He’ll will get even more people killed, I have to stop him,” Luke insisted with a growl before throwing himself back towards the air base with an enormous leap.

“He’s like both our generals and our jedi commander put together!” Rex groaned and spun around. “Sergeant Appo, can you hold them off?”

“Scanners and scouts say there are barely any in numbers, we should be fine sir,” Appo nodded, letting out a few rounds from his blaster, although his tone was laced in a bit of confusion at the situation. “Go get the little commander!” It seemed rather odd, such a small force of droids, but at the moment, they hadn’t questioned it. Rex, Waxer and several others started to run back towards the air base to chase Luke.

Luke used all of his Soresu training just to fend off the barrage of blows against Krell; he had at least lost one staff in the Umbaran monster after it had nearly eaten the both of them but that didn’t mean he was any easier to fight. Krell had years on him, years of experience and some of that, with war. He had gotten away with a few Aratu flips and blows, even sliding into his favorite Djem So moves.

The young blonde had caught up to Krell as they got back to the base. Luke had more endurance and youthful strength but Krell’s own strength, the kind one got from years of practice and experience, far outweighed his own.

Their blows were furious and painful, putting a strain on Luke limbs and muscles. He got thrown around more times than he would like to admit.

He had to play it smart. Get the high ground, find weak points, use simple moves for endurance, to keep yourself afloat while your opponent tired himself out. He had to be able to utilize some of these things.

Luke backflipped away from Krell’s upcoming saber, blocking a glancing blow with the swing of his own. He twisted away which gave him a second’s reprieve.

With a quick glance, just leapt straight up in the air, only turning enough to land on top of one of the Umbaran’s ships that they had confiscated.

Just as he had suspected, Krell jumped up right after him. Twisting in the air, Luke took a breath and hit the besalisk’s throat wattle with his foot. It wasn’t much but it was enough to push the being back. Without hesitation, Luke leapt down and swung as hard as he could, slicing cleanly through one of the besalik’s arms.

The former general howled and fell off the edge of the ship, bouncing off of one of the wings and to the ground. Luke jumped down as Krell struggled to get up, blood practically pouring through the stump of what was left of his limb.

Krell may have had much experience, but losing a limb, that was not something you fought with. Definitely not immediately after losing it. The blood loss alone was enough to slow opponents down to a near halt.

“You are under arrest,” Luke snarled, pointing his guardian’s saber directly at him. “Surrender, now.”

“Never!” Krell hissed and came at him again. Luke prepared to swing…

Only to feel something hit his back.

He fell away to the side and saw only darkness.

Okay, so essentially, Krell learned about Luke and told Dooku. Initially, he thought he could take the planet and that would be enough but then he thought that Luke might be good leverage or something for Dooku. Dooku, being himself and preferring Kenobi, is intrigued by this new apprentice that he has heard or seen nothing about.

Dooku comes to the planet with some reinforcements to catch Luke and his forces off guard. Much of the 501st survived but are in the forests, fighting off a small thing of droids. Luke has a few boys wth him but Dooku takes them with him for leverage and eventually, to be sold to Zygerrians.